


Daddy's Hands

by humble_beginnings



Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF
Genre: Daddy Chris, Dodger dog, F/M, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Quickies, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex, the many dogs of Chris and Amelia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-10 02:49:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 75,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humble_beginnings/pseuds/humble_beginnings
Summary: Following on from Animal Magnetism - Chris and Amelia met in Australia while he was filming in Sydney and began what was supposed to be a short fling. Now, 4 years later, Amelia is finishing a residency in veterinary oncology and small animal surgery at the Animal Medical Center in NYC. They're working their way through an unplanned pregnancy and Chris proposed right after finding out Amelia was expecting.---------------------------------------------------You guys asked for more Chris and Amelia as a follow up to Animal Magnetism and I couldn't resist. Between them they now have five dogs - the two Aussie's from Ruby's litter (Amelia's Asha and Chris's Hela), Amelia's french bulldog Nina and cocker spaniel Olly, and Chris came home after filming Gifted with a surprise Dodger. As you can imagine Amelia just rolled her eyes and welcomed him to the family.Because Amelia is Australian and Chris is American there may be some mish-mash of American vs Australian English, depending on who's speaking. Assume it's deliberate even if it looks like a mistake.Warnings: Unplanned pregnancy, possibly some kinkiness later on. Amelia has mild PTSD after being held hostage by gunmen in the Sydney CBD.





	1. A'Tisket, A'Tasket

You'd think it would feel 'real' by this point, but still when I walk in to a waiting room full of pregnant women I feel like I'm the propeller hat or the crab on an episode of 'one of these things' from Sesame Street – I have to put a hand to my swollen belly to be sure I'm not an impostor. The receptionist smiles up at me from behind the desk, the same one I've seen at every appointment.  
“Hello, Amelia. The technician is running a little behind, but so is Doctor Perkins so you won't miss out on seeing both. Have a seat.”  
“Thank you.”  
How on earth does she remember everyone's name? Did they take a picture without my knowledge? Does she just look at the schedule and take a stab? Initially I thought she remembered me because I was the one who was dragged by an excitable Chris Evans to my first appointment – he even answered all of the questions for me, I felt like telling him to go sit in the kiddie corner and chill out – but she addresses every single woman by name.

The last thing I feel like doing is sitting after being told to drink half a litre of water and keep my bladder full – this overachiever drank a whole litre and since I can't relieve the discomfort without emptying it completely I lower myself gently into the chair and hope to god the baby doesn't kick and start a tsunami. In spite of the painful over-inflated-balloon feeling in my lower abdomen it's still a fight to stay awake while I wait, even reading on my phone and reviewing some sample scans for an assessment my eyes are starting to droop.

“Amelia?” a familiar woman calls from the doorway to the imaging room.   
I stand up with even more white-knuckling than I sat down with and waddle my way in while she's stopped by the receptionist who gives her a few quiet words before nodding and smiling.   
“Hop up on the table, I just need to get a few things ready.”  
I really want to grumble that they should be ready before making me get up there, but I don't because despite hormones and sleep deprivation turning me into a cranky bitch I was raised with impeccable manners. I groan in the process and she chuckles from the bench where she's flicking through my file.   
“You ok?”  
“Yeah, just... you wanted a full bladder, right?”  
“Are we talking painfully full?”  
“I think if you apply pressure with the transducer I might explode.”  
“Go use the restroom, darl. At 20 weeks we don't really need it to be full anyway. Go on, take your time.”

I have never in my life experienced relief like this; even when they first showed our little Butterflake was healthy and growing at 12 weeks, the heart fluttering away and little limbs moving on the screen. I think I might cry.

“Better?” she asks when I return.  
“Much, thank you.” I laugh.  
“Chris not with you today?” Just like that, my eyes well with tears. Fucking hormones have turned me into a leaky tap.   
“No,” I say softly. “He wanted to be, but we just couldn't make it work. I'll make another appointment for an extra scan when he's back.”  
“Not finding out the sex, then?”  
“Not today, no.”  
“All right, let's take some baby pictures.” She pulls up my shirt and stops. “Hold on, I just have to go grab some more gel.”  
Again I have to hold back my frustration. I'm here, I'm ready, and I want this over with. I don't want any cutesy stuff, I want to know our baby is ok so I can enjoy the cutesy stuff at the next one, when Chris is here.  
God I wish he was here.

I blink the tears away as she opens the door again, keeping my eyes squarely on the monitor beside me. A man clears his throat and for a moment I'm in one of those thrillers where a serial killer breaks in to the obstetrician's office because he has a fetish for big bellies or unborn children. He steps out from the shadows into the pool of light around the bed, and turns out to be my beautiful fiance with the long hair and a thick beard I adore, kissing me and holding my hand.   
“What are you doing here?”  
“I couldn't miss this. I just couldn't.”  
“But... how?”  
“It doesn't matter, babe. I'm here. Let's see our baby.”

I'm glad we're getting the entire sonogram on disc because I've completely missed most of it even though the medical side fascinates me, I'm too busy watching Chris. His face is lit up like a kid at Christmas and every little thing is the most exciting ever; the tiny toes and fingers, the heart beating, the facial features, all elicit little squeaks and whimpers you'd never expect from a man who currently looks like he'd be at home in a snow covered log cabin with an axe.   
“That's our baby's hand,” he says, taking mine and kissing my knuckles. “I just... it's amazing.”  
“You want to know the sex?”  
“Can we? Please?” he begs me.  
“Yes,” I reply with a smile.   
“It's a girl.”  
Chris is now less lumberjack and more blubbering mess. “A girl? We're having a girl?”  
She nods and points out the distinct lack of penis on the screen and Chris turns to me.   
“We're having a girl, Doc.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I can't believe our Butterflake is a girl,” he says, looking at the picture in his hand while I sip my coffee.   
It’s a nickname that came up when we first started talking about the little bun in my oven but he didn’t think the word ‘bun’ did it justice, and one day out of nowhere he came out with ‘Butterflake!’, promptly rushing me to the nearest bakery in horror when I said I’d never heard of one. If he hadn’t I’m sure my arse would be two sizes smaller – we sure didn't have those in Sydney, where I lived until I was offered a veterinary oncology residency here in New York. This summer Chris whisked me away to the Hamptons for a well-earned break and got down on one knee on the beach, only to have me step on his moment and blurt out that I was pregnant. When he walked in to my meditation class while filming in Sydney I had no idea who he was, or that we'd end up here a few years on.   
A broad smile spreads across my face; it’s starting to sink in now. It isn’t that I’m not as excited as he is, or even that the human puppy opposite me wears his heart on his sleeve and his excitement all over his gorgeous face, it’s just that I’m reminded every time she kicks or moves around. When I eat something I love only to have heartburn so bad I vomit, or I have to order bigger scrubs, or I find myself rubbing circles on my belly and swaying side to side, my thoughts are on our baby and my heart swells. Chris has a lot more to occupy his thoughts and a lot less to remind him, he hasn’t even felt her kick yet because he’s been away for a month – the closest he got was being beside me in bed when I felt the first little bubbles and flutters inside my womb.   
“How long do we have?” I almost don’t want to know but if I’ve learned anything it’s that I need time to prepare for his departure when it’s longer than a month, and according to his schedule in my calendar he’ll be away another eight weeks at best.  
“I have to go back tonight, my flight leaves at six.”  
“Oh.” I don’t want to cry again. Crying in a crowded cafe isn’t my style and I should just be grateful he got here. “But I have to go to work, I only had the morning off.”  
“I’m sorry, babe. I’ll try to come home again before we wrap, for a weekend or something.”  
We need to have a serious conversation about work and leave and living arrangements and we agreed to do it face to face, but I wasted the first trimester being in blissful denial that everything would somehow work out on its own and then Chris spent a few weeks back in Los Angeles before he left for Durban. Only last week it occurred to me that the baby could actually arrive before we’ve worked out the logistics of my residency and his filming commitments and it frightens the shit out of me. I’m so close to finishing, now – on her due date I’ll have ten months of residency remaining and they have agreed to award it even if I take some time off provided all of my assessments have been completed and I can demonstrate the same proficiency as my peers, but that means studying with a newborn, completing high-risk surgical procedures under huge amounts of pressure while heavily pregnant, and returning to full time caseload while my tiny daughter is cared for by a yet-to-be-determined someone.

“Hey,” Chris says gently, reaching across the table for my hand. “You ok?”  
I can feel the colour is gone from my face and my heart is racing, my lungs won’t fill with air. This is exactly why we’ve both avoided talking about it, it’s an overwhelming prospect. The little girl cooking away in my belly is wholeheartedly wanted by us both, but that doesn’t mean the timing is ideal. And there’s the kick of guilt, because a part of me feels like I should just stop working and focus on starting our family properly even though I’ve worked myself ragged for three years and it will mean nothing if I don’t finish it.   
“Yeah.” I smile.  
“How long until you have to go to work?”  
I look down at my watch. “An hour and a half.”  
We exchange silent looks across the table and both stand up so fast Chris almost knocks his chair over.

In less than twenty minutes he has me naked in his arms, our hands and lips exploring every inch of each other to commit to memory once more. Chris rolls to his back and I straddle his hips, sinking down slowly and taking his length, guided by his strong hands. I lean over and kiss him while my hips roll back and forth in languid strokes. His hands are everywhere at once, caressing and kneading, pinching my nipples and toying with my swollen breasts, wordlessly echoing my own aching desire to just touch him and have our flesh pressed together as much and as long as possible.

When I make love to him I don't see Captain America or even Chris Evans the actor – he's my fiance, my 'Boston', my Chris. There are no careers, no life changing decisions, no long months of separation, I'm grounded and nothing exists but this moment. As a Buddhist I struggled for so long with the idea of attachment being a bad thing and trying to reconcile the heartbreak I felt when Chris left with the idea that I didn't _need_ him to be whole and content. Now, while I miss him when he's away and look forward to being back in his arms, I accept that it's just the way our lives are. I could leave my career and go everywhere with him and there would be no harm in that but I choose not to, I choose it every day. It is what it is. That's what allows me to enjoy this moment and not waste it with tears – although apparently the hormones that rage around my veins very much want me to cry every damn day – I know it will end with another temporary goodbye.

That said, I'm human and as my Buddhist teacher Mark reminds me every time we discuss this topic I'm not Buddha himself. There will be attachment and hurt and tears, I'll miss him and second guess my decisions, throw the odd tantrum and want to give it all up.

I grind down on him and run light fingertips down his chest, admiring the flex of his muscles as he moves with me. His mouth falls open and his jaw sets firm as he starts to moan and force heavy breaths through his lips, his fingers finding my swollen bundle of nerves between us and rubbing gentle circles until my walls start to flutter and squeeze his cock.   
“Oh... come with me, babe.”   
His deep blue eyes watch mine as I rock faster over him and a climax washes over me, leaving me limp and smiling in its wake. Chris raises my hips and I fall forward, gripping his shoulders and biting his neck as he thrusts hard up to me and spills his warmth deep inside with a series of groans.   
“Fuck...” he whispers. “I missed you so fucking much.”

As long as we can we lie in silence, tangled in each other and the sheets. He runs his fingers up and down my side and in circles on my belly, slowly lulling me into a light sleep with his head resting just above my bump.  
“I can't wait to meet her,” he says quietly. “I wonder what she'll look like, who she'll grow up to be.”  
“Mmm,” I say sleepily. “I hope she has her daddy's blue eyes and kind heart.”  
“I think she'll be beautiful like her mother.” He's quiet for a few minutes. “I know you're worried about work after she's born. I'm going to sort out a year off.”  
“You already have projects, though.”  
“They're not as important as our daughter, there will be others. I want to do this, babe. Not because I want you to finish your residency but because I don't want to miss anything, I can't think of a better way to do that than be a stay at home dad.”  
“Are you sure about this?”  
“Yes,” he says with a nod. “I can't think of a better way to spend a year. We'll stay in New York while we finish and after that if you want we can talk about relocating or we can stay here.” He rises to lean on his elbow and kiss my bump. “Honestly, I've been as anxious about it as you have and since a few days ago when I started talking to Josh about it all those worries have gone. It's the right thing for all of us, I'm sure of – What?” he cuts off and looks at me in alarm when I grab his hand and press it to the side of my belly, low near my hip.  
The baby was kicking so hard a second ago I was sure he'd be able to feel it, she hasn't stopped moving the whole time he's been speaking. Of course now his hand is there it stops.  
“Keep talking,” I whisper, keeping the pressure on his hand.   
A smile lights up his face and he turns his lips toward my abdomen. “It's the right decision for our family, right little – ” His wide blue eyes look up at me. “Was that...?” She kicks again when I push his hand harder into my side and this time there's no doubt. “Oh my god that's amazing!” Tears glisten in his eyes.  
“She's been really active while you were talking. I think she likes daddy's voice.”  
“Well then hi little Butterflake, I'm your daddy.”   
Right on cue she kicks again. She could be punching, hell she could be poking her head or her bum out for all I can tell, all that matters is Chris can finally feel it.   
“I love you, baby,” he says, stroking my cheek and tucking my hair behind my ear. He leans down and presses a gentle, lingering kiss right over my shallow navel. “Both of you.”

Before he leaves again he makes a copy of the sonogram pictures and video and stops in for a quick goodbye at the hospital, catching me right in the middle of a consult. The owner of the beagle I'm examining doesn't seem to mind the interruption too much, though, and it forces me to keep it together.   
“I'll see you in a few weeks,” he says, kissing my lips quickly. “Love you,” he whispers in my ear.   
“Love you too,” I say into his neck as he wraps me in a tight hug. “Let me know when you've arrived safe.”  
“Always.” He bends and plants a kiss on my belly. “Take care of mommy, little one.”

 


	2. Banbury Cross

**Chris**

I love watching Amelia work, I wish I could do it more often. The Animal Medical Center in New York is a long way from her little practice on Sydney's Northern Beaches and that's never more evident than today when I walk in and find another receptionist I haven't met before – I'm certain every single time I've visited over the last three years the person sitting at the front desk has been different from the time before. It isn't that they go through a lot of staff, more that they have so many I get a new one each time.

This one might well be new – she's young enough that she could be fresh out of school and likely has aspirations of veterinary medicine or nursing – and her double-take as I approach the reception desk definitely isn't because I don't have an animal with me.  
“Good afternoon, Mister Evans. Are you looking for Doctor Harris?”  
“Only if she's not busy.”  
She smiles and picks up the phone in front of her. “She's with a regular patient right now, I'm sure it will be fine.” Then, lifting the handset to her ear and mouth. “Sorry to interrupt, is it all right if I send Mister Evans through?” She nods and sets it down.  
“Please call me Chris,” I say with a smile.  
“She's in consult room five, Chris,” she says, blushing. If teenage me could see that I've made a woman blush without completely embarrassing or exposing myself he'd never believe it. “Do you know where that is?”  
“I do. Thank you, Emily.”

I deliberately decided to say goodbye here because her mind will be occupied and hopefully she won't completely break down like last time I left. We both know it's mostly hormones, we're both used to being separated enough that the reaction isn't usually so catastrophic, but it was difficult to watch and even worse was the tirade I copped when I called to say I'd arrived in Durban. I'm still not sure what the anger was about. This time she'll either keep it together because she's at work, or she won't and I'll be in for a much angrier phone call when I arrive. I can only hope it's the former.

When she opens the door a beagle comes rushing at me in a futile attempt at escape, only to be distracted by the scent of our dogs on my legs. Once he has his nose attached to my calf he follows me easily back in and Amelia closes the door behind me. After a quick farewell I bend and kiss her swollen belly, whispering to our daughter inside.  
“Take care of mommy, little one.”

Flying didn't bother me until I met Amelia. I never loved it and turbulence has always made me a little queasy but it was just a necessary part of my life that wasn't worth worrying about. Now there's a very specific part of air travel that I detest so much I get anxious as soon as I'm in my seat: that fucking awful feeling as the wings take the weight of the plane and the wheels leave the ground. It's not the physical sensation of being held down in my seat or the drop in my stomach, it's not even the worry that we won't actually get airborne and we'll crash; it's the finality of leaving the ground. There's no turning back after that, and although I logically know I can't get off and change my mind before that either, every single time now when I'm dipped into my seat and we rise off the tarmac I break down.

It's a hundred times harder now that she's carrying my baby. Leaving her behind was never easy but we both had our work commitments to keep us occupied, now that she's so uncharacteristically emotional it's almost impossible. I guess that's how I know I'm making the right decision taking some extended time at home, there's no way I could leave her and our daughter behind for months on end and it's impossible for her to come with me. We'd discussed a nanny and that idea is still on the table as a back up option, but I want to be at home with my girls at least while she finishes her residency and decides on her next move.

 _We're having a daughter. The tiny thing we've nicknamed 'Butterflake' in my beautiful fiancee's womb is a girl._  
I have the sonogram picture set as the wallpaper on my phone and as we take off I'm looking at it in awe through the blur of tears, it's as though I'd seen her in two dimensions up until now but the new pictures are in three, everything feels so much more real. At the risk of jinxing my entire life, the time since we met has been the best so far – even including the year we were apart – and I wouldn't change a second of it. This pregnancy wasn't planned but I am so excited it's all I can think about and the idea that I can ease Amelia's worries by doing something as amazing as being a stay at home dad just tops it off.

Durban is hot and this beard is itching all day every day, the only thing keeping me going is the pictures in my trailer and talking to Amelia on the phone every couple of days. She says Butterflake is kicking up a storm now and I'm reminded how it felt to feel those little pushes against my hand. I was a little jealous up until then that she got to feel movement all the time and I didn't, but it doesn't matter now that I have. That first kick is a moment I'll never forget as long as I live.

The weeks we're filming prove a perfect distraction and it feels like only days have passed before we receive confirmation that we'll be finishing up a couple of weeks early. While I'm up reading one night I get a call from Sebastian.  
“Hey, buddy,” I answer. “What's happening?”  
“She's here, Chris. Tulia and I had a baby girl yesterday.”  
My heart swells in my chest. “That's fantastic news, I'm so happy for you both. Are they both okay? Does she have a name?”  
“They're doing great, Tulia was amazing. Her name is Mihaela Abrielle and she's perfect. Michelle will bring Lachlan in tomorrow to meet his baby sister.”  
Sebastian and Tulia have had a rough couple of years with their marriage breaking down and then her career taking a hit when she pressed sexual assault charges against a fellow crew member. To her credit she saw it through and took every blow on the chin and was starting to get some big jobs again when they found out she was expecting. On top of that Sebastian had his first child with another woman, and yet they've survived all of that and come out stronger for it. Now I know our girls will be very close in age and I'm excited all over again.

Amelia is still working in shifts and up all hours of the night despite needing more sleep now that she's passed half way. Both her doctor and I have told her she should rest while she can but she's surviving on about four hours a night most of the time with study and extra research, the plus side to this is that no matter what time I finish I can text her and she's usually awake. Then again it also means she calls some mornings without thinking.  
“Hey, babe,” I croak just before 5am. “What's up?”  
I don't have to be there to know she's looking at her watch, now, realising the sun isn't even up for me yet. “Fuck. I woke you.”  
“Yeah... but it's okay, I never mind talking to you. How's work?”  
“Busy.” She's silent for a few seconds while I yawn and sit up, rubbing my eyes.  
“Doc? Is everything all right?”  
“We lost... I lost a patient tonight.”  
“Oh, babe. I'm sorry.” It's easy to assume that losing an animal patient is easier on her than it would be for a human doctor but it hits her hard every single time. Being an oncology specialist means it's a regular occurrence but I don't think it will ever be easy on Amelia. Or any vet, for that matter. “What happened?”  
“She had py- an infection and it was just too far gone, she crashed right after I opened her up and we couldn't bring her back. Hardly any symptoms, the family had her booked in for spaying next week. They're devastated.”  
“Are you all right?”  
I'm immediately reminded of Rubi, the dog she took in when we first got together in Sydney. Rubi was a beautiful Aussie shepherd, small and sick and carrying a litter of pups when we met her. Amelia and I delivered the puppies together in her laundry – that's overstating it, I floundered about and did mostly as I was told while failing at staying out of the way – but then Rubi went down hill and died a few days later. Even though intellectually Amelia knew she couldn't have helped it or done anything differently she was a mess for a while.  
“I'll be fine,” she says shakily. I can hear her guzzling from a bottle of water and sighing.  
“Babe, does your head hurt?”  
“A little. Not migraine hurt, just headache.”  
“Get some Tylenol and a drink and go sit down for a bit. Please.”  
“Yes, boss.” I can hear the slightest smile in her voice. “I'm sorry I woke you, go back to sleep.”  
“I love you. You can wake me any time you like.”  
“Love you too, Boston.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I have mixed feelings about our last day of shooting – it seems to come around at lightning speed and with the urgency of a snail at the same time. I'll miss working, there's no point in denying it. I don't think it diminishes how strongly I feel about the decision to stop for a while to admit that it won't always be the easier option. And there's the niggling seed of doubt, that little voice that mocks my thinking it will just be a break and I'll come back, reminding me daily that there might not be any work left for me. Today as I'm packing up my trailer there's a sense of finality about it because this time I'm not moving on to the next job and another temporary living arrangement, I'm moving on to a whole new phase of my life.

The wrap party starts out as a stylish affair and inevitably gets a bit messy by the end. I'm not even going to pretend I don't love a good party with friends but I considered leaving early because... I can't recall why, something to do with behaving like a responsible adult or reliable father and husband. Somewhere along the way I must have talked myself into staying because at 3am I'm still there and a little worse for wear and the festivities have descended into beer pong and graphic explanations of childbirth and baby shit. By the time I stumble in to my hotel room the sun is coming up and I’m having rather poetic visions about the next chapter of our lives. My early afternoon flight is going to be a bitch.

“Guess who came to visit me today?” There's a definite chirp in Amelia's voice when I call to tell her I'm at the airport.  
“Who?” Ordinarily I'd quip back something to make her laugh but I don't have it in me, every time I open my mouth I fear vomit might come out.  
“Mihaela and Tulia. She's beautiful, Sebastian is over the moon. The whole time they were here her big dark eyes were open and looking around at everything. Oh, Chris. She's perfect.” Amelia isn't normally one to gush over babies so hearing this much cluck in her voice would be unnerving if she weren't pregnant.  
“Won't be long we'll have our own little bundle of perfection. I have some promo stuff booked in over the next month but after that I'm all yours.”  
“You're going to drive me crazy, aren't you?” she says with a laugh.  
“Probably. I'll see you soon, babe.”  
When they call my flight for boarding I'm daydreaming about building baby cribs and test-driving prams, finding the perfect rocking chair for the nursery and surprising her with it when she comes home from work. That's what it's like waiting for a baby to arrive, right?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When I surprised Amelia at the obstetrician's office it was a rare occurrence, usually the only time I can manage to sneak up on her is at work or in public. The reason is tap-dancing away on the other side of our apartment door right now, all twenty doggy feet excitedly trotting on the spot and spinning in circles with all five tails wagging so furiously there's a real risk they might take off – if she doesn't know I'm home something is seriously wrong. It's late and she's already in bed, sitting up surrounded by books and wearing my Patriots shirt. She has the good grace to look surprised when I come through the bedroom door and jumps up to throw her arms around my neck and kiss me before I've even set my bags down.  
“I missed you,” she says when our lips part.  
Dodger, being the tallest, gets his nose up to my chest and wiggles his body between us. “Yeah, I missed you guys, too.”  
I kneel down on the floor and put my backpack by the closet, opening my arms so they can all lick and sniff me to within an inch of my life. First to leave are Nina and Olly – Amelia's French Bulldog and Spaniel – and they curl up at her feet with their tails still thumping against the floor. Next are Asha and Hela, the two miniature Australian Shepherds we kept from the litter we delivered together. Dodger would continue covering me in slurpy kisses for hours if I let him.  
“How was your flight?” she asks. “Did you sleep off the hangover?”  
I don't bother asking how she knows, I just laugh. “Yeah, I did. Drank a ton of water and slept between toilet stops. You studying?”  
“Just keeping myself awake, otherwise I'd have dozed off waiting for you and been lying in a puddle of drool.”

Once I've put the dogs to bed and dried off from a hot shower that's almost exactly how I find her, although she hasn't had time to drool she is diagonal on the bed with her head on my pillow and eyes closed, tiny little snores coming from her parted lips. I chuckle as I switch off the lights and carefully place the books on the floor, sliding in behind her and curling my front around her back.

I don't want to wake her but I don't feel like sleeping, either. My hand wanders down her side, the palm lightly grazing over her skin where my shirt has ridden up to her waist. When I think about her body it's not her round tits or squeezable ass that fills my mind, it's the curves I love. The shallow wave between her waist and hip; the subtle curl between her ass and thigh and the crease of sensitive skin I love to sink my teeth into. As I trail back up there's the changing swell of her breasts; that beautiful point beneath where they meet her torso; and the new roundness of her abdomen as our baby grows inside. She's starting to wake up now as my fingers and the fabric of my shirt brush her skin, leaving a path of goosebumps and making her sigh. I guide it up and off her head and she resumes her position so I can trace down her spine, the shallow valley at its base making another of my favourite curves, particularly when she angles her hips back toward me and deepens it as she presses the flesh of her delicious ass against my groin.

My hand cups her breast and she moans immediately, her nipple hardening to a pebble against my palm as she arches her back to press more into my kneading fingers. One of my favourite effects of pregnancy is how sensitive and easily aroused she is right now, not because she’s always up for sex but for the way she just melts into me at the slightest touch and those little kitten mewls I love fall from her lips. I shift down to kiss her neck, brushing her hair back to expose her shoulder.  
“So beautiful,” I whisper against her skin.

She reaches a hand back and threads it into my damp hair while I drag my hand down her spine and over her ass, squeezing gently until she rolls her top hip forward to give me access to her heat. Already her folds are wet and she pushes back into my hand, begging for my fingers as I spread her juices around and lightly circle her clit.  
“Please, baby,” she sighs. “It’s been so long... I need you.”  
Fisting my cock she glides her hand back and forth from behind my balls all the way to the tip and back again, covering it in precum as I thrust against her loose grip until I’m throbbing in her palm.

My teeth graze her shoulder and neck while I part her legs, pulling the top one back and over my thighs and shifting forward so my cock rests at her entrance. Her moan vibrates through my lips as I guide my length into her tight walls and I feel her muscles clench and twitch around me when I start to move slowly back and forth. Her long neck arches back and turns to kiss me, our tongues glide together while I thrust and pull long strokes, my balls pressing against her lips while her fingers pinch at her own nipples.  
“Fuck I love when you touch yourself, baby girl. So hot,” I whisper between moans. I hook my elbow behind her thigh and my fingers find her clit, fluttering over it and listening to her breath hitch when I get the pressure right. “Come undone for me.”  
As her climax approaches she reaches down and places her hand on top of mine, guiding my fingers just where she wants them and moving them frantically over her swollen bud until she cries out and spasms, clenching her quivering thighs together and pulling my hand away. I continue with slow, deep thrusts and kiss her mouth as she comes down, only stopping when she does that blissful contented sigh and flops her hand back onto the sheet beside her.

Amelia whines softly when I pull out and roll her to her back, kneeling between her open legs and gazing down at her flushed skin and dark eyes for a few seconds before shoving back inside. Her spine curves as she arches to push against me and I slide both hands under her back, laying my body over her and holding her tight against me as I make love to her, gradually picking up speed until I can hear the wet slap of my balls against her ass as I pound her tight cunt. I hardly notice her hand moving down between us until her fingertips are brushing my dick and her moans are loud in my ear, her fingers coaxing a second orgasm as I start to lose control.  
“Ah, fuck! Oh, god... Amelia...”  
Her body turns rigid and she falls silent as every muscle inside grips my dick, her strangled scream filling my ears a second later as a gush of fluid is forced from her pussy. My thrusts turn ragged and desperate against her slippery cunt as I look down, both of us dripping and glistening with her juices. Her face is contorted in a mixture of ecstasy and hyper-stimulation, her eyes squeezed shut as the breath heaves from her chest.

“Open... open your eyes,” I grind out. As soon as they lock on to mine I shove deep inside her one last time and erupt, throbbing as I fill her with warm cum and my body shakes.  
She reaches behind my neck and pulls me into a kiss that’s all panting breath and teeth, sloppy and forceful. I bury my face in her neck and she giggles a little at the tickle of my beard, raking her nails over my scalp and the back of my neck until I turn to putty and relax into her.

Only for fear of squashing Butterflake I roll off onto my pillow and pull her into my arms, rubbing soft circles on her shoulder while she drifts off. I watch her angelic face for a while once she’s asleep, brushing the damp hair from her temples as a tiny smile curls her lips. We decided rather than rush the wedding we’d put it off until after the baby was born and right now I’m torn somewhere between ‘What does it matter, I’m already hers and I don’t need a ring or a piece of paper to prove it’; and ‘If I could say I do right here, naked in bed, I’d do it.’ I lift her hand to my lips and her engagement ring picks up the tiny shard of light from the window, reminding me of the best decision I ever made – putting a ring on it.

 


	3. Cobbler, Cobbler

## Amelia

I’ve never looked at the statistics but I’m certain if you tracked planned pregnancies between here and Australia you’d find a marked difference in the season they were conceived. Australian women dread being pregnant in summer because it’s so hot and humid, and mum tells me everything swells so much worse in a warm climate; whereas I’m constantly told in New York ‘Oh, it’s such a pain being heavily pregnant in winter, trying to cover the damn belly with a coat’. They’re both right. When I imagined being pregnant there were always beautiful dresses that just flowed over me and _‘the oven’_ (when did I turn into one of those people who nicknames body parts? Is it part of the baby-making upgrade?) and I looked like a beautiful goddess who belonged on a fertility advertisement. Or I’d be in jeans and sneakers with one of those ‘I grow humans, what’s your superpower?’ T-shirts, perfectly fitted and fresh-faced glowing. And they’d be regular jeans that sit on my hips just right, same as I was wearing pre-surprise-conception, because my hips and arse wouldn’t have grown. I’d just have a nice hard, round, ‘bump’.  
I feel so incredibly betrayed.   
It’s not a ‘bump’. A bump is something you can drive over and it slows you down, whereas the belly that now protrudes from my lower torso is more like a nuclear-proof bunker complete with supplies enough for an entire extended family to survive a year before they have to start eating each other. The lovely Doctor Perkins says I’m just really good at producing amniotic fluid, as though it’s something to be proud of. And my jeans? Out of the question. I think I outgrew them the very second I saw the second pink line on the pregnancy test. Maternity jeans are funny things, with elastic around the top instead of the waistband, that theoretically should grow with your blossoming ‘bunker’, but instead just likes to fold over on itself at inopportune times and expose my tiger stripes to the world while I hike them back up. I don’t particularly feel like a tiger right now except that I’d like to roar occasionally, but my stomach kind of does look like I was shredded by a tiger’s claws... maybe it’s the medical training in me but I just can’t see them as anything but scars as the layers beneath stretch and tear. They’re not really bothering me although I seem to get new ones every day. Stretchy pants and potato sack tunics are now my staple wardrobe when I’m not in my very stylish maternity scrubs – which are actually so comfortable that if I had enough pairs I’d probably wear them at home, too.

Tonight Chris and I are attending a screening of the film he’d just finished when we found out Butterflake was coming, the last of his promotional duties for this project and until after she’s born. It will be my first time seeing it and the only event I’ve been able to accompany him to since we announced the pregnancy, and I’ll admit my nerves are starting to get the better of me. Since I moved in we’ve been to a lot of premieres and parties together, the vast majority of them we were able to sneak in unnoticed but there have been a few where the red carpet was mandatory and he wanted me by his side.

I don't love the celebrity side of these things but it makes me so proud of Chris – not only for the attention he receives but the way he handles the occasion when inside I know he's freaking out. In the car he reaches across and takes my hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles.  
“You doing okay, babe?”  
“Yeah.” I force a smile. “Piece of cake, right?”  
I know he's worried about me having a panic attack because I can't take Valium while I'm pregnant. I only had it prescribed after our first red carpet experience as a couple, which didn't go well.

It was February and most of my life was still packed in boxes. I had taken a lot of convincing to go to the Oscars with Chris – I had to fly straight back the morning after while he remained in LA – but he wanted to introduce me and assured me that the ceremony was worth enduring for the after parties. With the move over there being so rushed I hadn't really had time to prepare like I always thought I might if I ever got the chance to go – like all of the magazines say the actresses do with their crash diets so they look perfect on the day – and he hurriedly introduced me to Ilaria, his stylist, over coffee the week before.   
“What sort of style do you like? Any particular designers?”  
“Er... “ I shrugged and laughed. “I honestly just pick what looks nice.”  
“She likes ruffles. You wear a lot of ruffles,” Chris chimed in.  
“Do I?” I cocked my head to the side. “Yeah, I guess.”  
“I can work with that, Gucci is all about ruffles.”  
“I'm sorry he roped you into this, Ilaria. You're used to dressing all those beautiful celebrities, and – ”  
She held up a hand to cut me off. “I get to work with some gorgeous women, of which you are now one. You think I didn't hear all about you when he came back? I know how important you are to Chris and it's my job to make sure you're comfortable and feel like a million bucks. You have a lovely figure, Amelia, healthy and toned, and I already have a gown in mind that I think was just made for you. Stop worrying.” She elbowed Chris. “Wait til you see your tux, mister. Freakin perfection.”

She was right, his tux was gorgeous, but I couldn't stop looking at myself and twirling in the mirror. She'd brought a few gowns but the one she'd thought of first was the one we went with – a pink Gucci v-neck with ruffled layers for the skirt in deepening shades of pink with a silver satin bow around my waist. In the car I'd toyed with the soft fabric and watched my impeccably manicured nails as though they were someone else's, the light tan on my skin felt fraudulent after the snow I'd left behind in Manhattan, and I was still questioning the inadequacy of my own eyelashes after having an extra set glued to my eyelids. Suddenly I felt like I actually _did_ belong on the red carpet at the Oscars, only it wasn't a pleasant or comforting feeling so much as one that made me wonder if Chris might like me better this way than what the 'real' me I'd left back at the hotel in jeans and a sweater. I felt a million bucks, but I felt as fake as the eyelashes that were beginning to irritate my eyes.

As soon as the car slowed into the queue I could hear the roar of people, and the flashes were already lighting up the inside of the car. I reached out for Chris's hand and he squeezed it reassuringly.  
“I don't know if I can do this,” I whispered.  
“I’m right here with you, babe. Say the word and we’ll just go inside, or we can skip it altogether and go in the back?”  
“N-no,” I stuttered. “I want to do it for you. I just need a minute.”  
“It will be at least five before we get out of this queue.” He took off his seatbelt and slid over so our bodies were pressed together. “Look at me. I’m right here and I won’t leave your side.”  
“Isn’t that what I promised you?” I said with a tiny smile.   
“Isn’t it perfect we can lean on each other?”

By the time the door opened he’d talked me through a very short calming meditation and I felt calm and mostly in control even though the noise was unbearable. The tinnitus in my left ear started up immediately and I knew I’d have to concentrate to make out any words for the rest of the night but I was determined to take in the atmosphere and if nothing else show off my dress. After the first interview it got easier, I worked out that if I kept to Chris’s right I could turn my head when the interviewer was speaking and it would just look like I was gazing into his blue eyes rather than turning my good ear to the conversation. He consistently corrected anyone that said I was lucky and even got a bit of a Boston grumble going at one poor blogger who suggested I’d moved to New York to be with Chris rather than for my own career. I’d just been completely star struck by being introduced to – and immediately hugged by – Robert Downey Jr when a light rig fell behind us and the noise was enough to shatter my composure, I gripped Chris’s arms so hard he had fingertip bruises in his biceps for three days.  
“It’s okay, babe. You’re okay. You’re safe,” he whispered into my hair while encircling me in his arms.   
I felt tears well in my eyes, I so desperately wanted to do this for him and now I felt like a frightened puppy crying for her mother.   
“Look at me,” he said firmly, raising my face with a finger beneath my chin. “Kiss me.”  
As I reached up to press our lips gently together he spoke against them. “We’re going straight inside now. I’ve got you.” And with a brief kiss he threaded his fingers into mine and strode purposefully past the rest of the crowd and inside the foyer, leading me to a small breakout room and locking the door behind us before sitting me on a velvet couch.   
“Here.” He unscrewed the cap of a water bottle from the table and put it in my shaking hands, steadying them with his own. While I took a sip he smoothed his hands over my hair and kissed my forehead. “I’ll get a car to meet us at the back, we can hang out here until then.”  
“No. I still want to go in, I just need a minute.”  
“Babe – ”  
I pressed a finger over his lips. “I did not get into this dress, have countless people make me Oscars-worthy, and get all the way inside to just leave. We’re going in.”  
“Okay.” He smiled. “You know you were just perfect before, right? I couldn’t care less what you wear and I love your day-glo skin. In fact I prefer you without clothing and the only attention I pay to your fingernails is when they’re scratching me, so... I love you, Amelia. When you’re comfortable.”  
“I love you, too. Are you trying to get me naked?”  
He raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t, but... I mean the door is already locked...”  
The rest of that story is very very private and for another time. When we left that little room and I straightened his satin bow tie and navy tux jacket we sat through most of the ceremony with our fingers toying with each other’s palms and wrists. The effort was worth it but I took myself to a good therapist that week and got a prescription for Valium, which I’ve taken before each event since.

Until tonight, because I can’t. The doctor said it would be okay occasionally if I need it, but in an event like this where I can leave any time I’m uncomfortable it’s not worth the risk.

It’s just a short thing, a couple of interviews before we go in and Chris is doing a Q and A after. It will be fine.  
“Can we just go around the block and come back?” Chris asks his driver.  
“Absolutely.”  
We pull back out into the traffic as Chris lays a hand on my belly. “Have I told you how beautiful you look. That colour is beautiful on you.”  
“Thanks. Ilaria sent me to a shop that does some beautiful maternity wear and the woman grabbed this straight off the rack for me, it was perfect.”  
It’s a simple wrap dress in plum with a fluted skirt, the top making a deep V between my breasts and pulling firm right beneath so I almost have a waist again. The hem is just above my knees and somehow flows over my belly without the illusion of a potato sack so much as conforming stretch, the thick tights and knee high boots keeping my legs toasty warm. I long ago gave up trying to find a coat that actually covers me and have gone for a short leather jacket fastened at the collar and open the rest of the way. Chris even decided to coordinate and is wearing a shirt in almost the same shade beneath his fitted grey suit.   
“You’re glowing.”  
“I don’t feel it, but thanks. You look pretty good yourself, daddy.”  
“Say that again, it never gets old.”  
“You’re. Going. To. Be. A. Daddy.” I punctuate each word with a kiss on his lips, deepening the last until he moans against my tongue.   
“Pulling up now, Chris,” the driver interrupts.   
“Ready?” he asks, stroking my cheek.   
I nod. Chris exits first and helps me out which I manage with a reasonable amount of poise. The crowd isn’t huge but they erupt all the same and I kind of love this part, watching his fans interact and shower him with adoration, making him blush and smile. When he comes away he’ll be buzzing with energy, bordering on overwhelmed with it, fidgeting and bouncing on the balls of his feet like a small child on a sugar rush.

Once he's made it to the end of the line we head over to the gathered press. Their questions are run-of-the-mill about the film and the cast, more about the final Avengers film, the one mandatory invasive question about the pregnancy.   
“Do you have any names chosen yet?” one asks.  
Chris looks at me and smiles. “Haven't agreed on one yet but we will. Probably after she's born.” His eyes widen immediately when he realises what he said. “Or he.”  
 _Great save, Chris._ That is the exact reason I made sure we told all of our close family and friends as soon as we found out. Great actor does not always mean great liar.  
We're laughing to ourselves about it on the way into the theatre and right as I cross the threshold everything swims for a moment. I grip Chris's arm with both hands to steady myself and he looks down at me in alarm.  
“What's wrong?”  
“Nothing, I just...” I stop and blink a few times. “I was a bit dizzy. I'm good.”

I don't give it another thought after that, I'm too busy enjoying the film. I might be biased but Chris's performance is sublime and perfectly portrayed, by the end I'm falling in love with his character and dabbing at my eyes while trying not to ruin my mascara. With fresh tears threatening to spill over I reach up and stroke his cheek, pulling him down to kiss him. Words can not express how proud I am and how happy I am for him that his hard work has translated into a beautiful performance.   
“So proud of you, Boston,” I say against his lips. “You should be, too.”

Most people wouldn't see how uncomfortable he is on the stage accepting praise and answering questions about himself, I don't know if it actually gets easier over the years so much as he's learned to cover it. As soon as its done he has a beer in his hand as he mingles with some friends from the cast and I slip away to find a bottle of water and some tylenol for the dull thudding in my head. Yawning as I stare out the window from a quiet corner, I startle at the familiar voice behind me.   
“Are you feeling okay or is that niece of mine giving you grief?”  
I turn and Scott envelopes me in a hug. “I'm fine, just a headache. How are you?”  
“I'm pretty proud to be an Evans right now,” he says with a beaming smile. “Can I get you anything?”  
“Really, Scott, I'm fine.” The truth is I'm exhausted, my shifts have been long and twice this week my sleep has been interrupted for an emergency surgery. My swollen feet and legs are throbbing in my heeled boots while the ache in my head steadily worsens behind my eyes. Chris works so hard and these nights are so few that I can't bear to cut it short. “Look at him, he's actually enjoying himself.”  
“Apparently we're heading to the club next door after this.”  
“Yeah? Cool.” I can only hope by 'we' he means him and anyone but me. The thought makes everything lurch again.   
Scott laughs and squeezes my shoulder. “Darlin', would you let me take you home?”  
I lay a hand on my chest dramatically. “But Scott, I'm marrying your brother. What if he finds out?”  
“Very funny. You look like you need some rest and Chris can keep celebrating without worrying about you. C’mon, give me an excuse to skip the club, I’m not really up for it tonight.”  
“Yeah, you're right.”

I sneak up beside Chris and slip my hand into his. “Can I talk to you?”  
“What's up?” he asks, leading me away from the crowd.  
“Scott is going to take me home so you can enjoy the rest of your night. You've earned this, baby. I want you to have fun and not worry about me, okay?”  
He opens his mouth to protest but I lay a finger over his lips.   
“No argument, unless you want me to stay.”  
“I don't know what I did to deserve such an angel, but I'm glad I did it. I love you.”  
“I love you, too. I'm so proud of you and I wish I could keep going but I can't. Give my apologies to everyone?”  
“Of course. I won't be too late.”  
“And I know better than to wait up.”

Chris's Patriots shirt isn't so oversized on me anymore, and where I could get away with no underwear before I feel the need to wear panties with it now. Scott has insisted on staying at least until Chris comes home even though I did my best to assure him I could take care of myself – apparently Chris had a word in his ear about me being a bit unsteady on my feet earlier and ordered him not to leave me alone. Before I go to sleep I sip a glass of ginger ale to try to calm the knot in my stomach but I'm not awake long enough to know if it works.

 _Bang!_  
The ringing in my ears makes it impossible to know where the rest of the cracking shots come from, just that they're close. Burning pain sears through my head, blinding me and making everything spin, making my stomach contract and lurch so violently I think I might turn inside out.   
And then I'm kneeling on the floor of the ensuite, fresh pain bringing tears to my eyes with every heave of my insides. A firm hand rubs my back while another holds my hair, and when my stomach is empty and I sit back on the cold tiles a soothing cloth wipes my face. Somehow I know it isn't Chris, maybe it's the cologne, but it's the next best thing.  
“Amelia? What do you need, darlin'?” Scott asks gently.  
My tongue is like lead in my mouth and when I speak the words don't want to come out in the right order. “Kitchen in the... the cabinet in... above the um...”  
“In the medicine cabinet above the microwave?” Scott deciphers.  
I nod. “Emet... anti... Fuck!” I ball my hand into a fist as though it will help the name come to me.   
He hands me a glass of water. “Here, sip this and I'll go get the whole box.” A minute later he's sitting on the floor beside me again and I open my eyes to find the right meds.  
Just the slit of white light sends me right back to the toilet and the hammer strikes my temples again. Without even asking he reaches up and flicks off the light switch, leaving us in only the glow from the hall light. “Better?”  
I squint one eye open and nod, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “Thanks. Zof- Zofran. One.”  
He sifts around in the plastic tub of boxes and bottles until he finds the right one and I hear him tear the foil before dropping a tiny tablet into my hand. I place it under my tongue, fighting another lurch from my stomach as it dissolves and the urge to vomit eases. We sit there for a while, my head resting back on the wall and my bum freezing on the tiled floor, until I'm sure I'm not going to be sick again and he helps me up.  
“Chris is on his way back,” he says as he tucks me into bed and sits on the edge, wiping my face and letting the cool cloth rest on my forehead. “Can I get anything else?”  
I shake my head. I want to say 'you didn't need to call him' and 'no, I just have to sleep it off' but I fear it would take an hour to form the words, so I just give him a weak smile and grab his hand again as I close my eyes. I've told Lisa many times how proud she should be of her boys, they're both instinctively thoughtful and caring, their default reaction is always kind and selfless. If I can't have Chris or my own mum, Scott really is the next best thing in a crisis. He's still there a few minutes later when Chris comes in and I hear them mumbling beside me before a light kiss is left on my cheek as he leaves, and then Chris is sliding in beside me and gathering me up in his arms, the room now in complete darkness.  
“Sorry,” I sob against his chest.   
“Shhhhhhh,” Chris whispers. “Sleep.”

 


	4. Doctor Foster

## Chris

“She went to work,” I tell Scott when he calls the next morning.  
“Is that a good idea?”  
“I didn’t think so but she said she felt fine.”  
“And that happens to her often?”  
“I wouldn’t say often. Every few months I guess. Stress brings it on sometimes. I should have known when she got dizzy and taken her straight home.”  
“Chris, I have trouble believing even you could talk Amelia into anything she didn’t want.” He laughs.   
“True. Well she said she was all right and I’ll check on her in a couple of hours to be sure. Thanks for taking care of her, I appreciate it.”  
“Any time.”

I have to go out and pick up a few things so I plan to visit her at work but, that goes out the window when I call to see if she wants a coffee.  
“Hey, I was about to call you,” she says, her voice weak and slow. “I got work…  _sick_  at work they made me come to hospital. I’m sure it’s just m… migraine…”  
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

When I arrive her room is dark and there’s a woman performing a sonogram on her belly. Amelia motions for me to come over beside the bed.  
“Is everything okay?” I whisper.  
“She’s perfectly happy in there, kicking and rolling around.”  
Amelia is pretty zonked out on pain killers so I mostly just sit by her bed while we wait for her doctor to come and see us.   
“Hi, Chris,” she whispers when she enters the darkened room. “How long has she been unwell?”  
I tell her about the screening party and last night and then very sheepishly explain that I’ve been away. “Usually I can tell, though. She gets the ringing in her ear and can’t hear properly. She doesn’t hide that from me when I ask how she is and we spoke on the phone every day.”  
“It can happen with the shift in hormones, but her blood pressure is a little concerning. Not enough to worry too much about at this stage but enough that we need to monitor it and she might need to slow down. What sort of hours is she working?”  
I shake my head. “Too many. Technically she has two days off each week but even then if there’s an interesting case she’ll go in and she’s studying all the time.”  
She nods and her smile is that of an obstetrician who is used to dealing with stubborn women. “She’s getting in to the third trimester now, Chris. She won’t like it but she’ll have to slow down.”  
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I’m staying at home with her now so I’ll keep a better eye on her.”  
“I want to keep her here until she’s recovered and monitor bub for a bit, just make sure there are no contractions or heart rate anomalies. Could you have the nurses page me when she’s awake and I’ll come back and speak with her?”  
“Of course. Thanks, doctor.”

I wake when she groans and turns to face me, tugging her hand from my grasp to brush the hair back from her face.   
“Hey, Doc. How are you feelin?”  
“Mmm, better. Good drugs. Can we go home?”  
I guide her back down when she tries to sit up. “Not so fast, babe. There’s a monitor on the baby – just to be sure you’re not having contractions or anything.”  
“It was just a migraine, Chris. I’ve had them like this before.”  
“Yes, but there’s a little extra load on your body, now. Your blood pressure is elevated, you’re going to have to slow down a bit.”  
I was expecting an argument, so when she starts to sob I’m momentarily taken aback. “I can’t. I have lab hours to keep up and I need more surgeries.”  
Moving up to sit on the edge of the bed I hold her hand and wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Hey, look at me. It will work out. You just have to cut back a bit, that’s all. Not stop altogether. Why don’t we go talk to them together and see what we can do?”  
“But there’s not enough time! Just…” she draws a deep, shuddering breath and looks up at me. “Just give me one more month, and then I’ll back right off. I’ll rest and put my feet up.”  
I sigh. “Amelia, come on. I know this little one wasn’t in our plans, but she’s coming, and I know it sucks and you’ve sacrificed a lot and I’ve been away… I don’t want to lose you.”  
“You won’t.”  
“This is serious, babe. You both could get really sick.”  
“I know my limits.”  
“Evidently you don’t or we wouldn’t be here.”

Silence falls over us both and I’d bet when the doctor returns she can feel the tension in the air. She sits down beside the bed while a nurse removes the strap and monitor from Amelia’s belly, handing her a print-out I can’t read.   
“We need you back here in a week for a check-up, I need that blood pressure to stabilise. In the mean time if you experience any of these symptoms, call or come in immediately.”  
“I’m sure it was just the migraine pushing it up today.”  
“Or, your blood pressure triggered the migraine. It should have come back down and it hasn’t, which suggests to me the blood pressure came first.”  
“Could stress have caused it? Anxiety?” I ask.  
“The migraine, sure. Not that much of a rise in her BP, though.” She turns back to Amelia. “I also need you to cut back on work and get enough rest. You can’t work like you used to with the extra load on your system or you’ll end up in preterm labour.”  
“I’m getting plenty of rest, I promise. I can’t just stop working, I’m almost finished a residency.”  
“I understand, Amelia. I really do. I’m not saying you have to stop, just cut your hours back to a reasonable level.”  
“I have a case load and if that patient needs a lot of attention then I have to be there. I can’t just say ‘sorry, reschedule Rover’s tumor re-section for next week, I’ve done my hours’!”  
The doctor smiles. “I was a resident when I fell pregnant with my first. He was a pill baby just like your little one, a complete surprise. I thought it was all over, that I’d never get accepted again to finish my residency and be a doctor. Obviously I did, it just took a little longer. Now I know it’s more challenging for veterinary medicine, and I know you’re nearly finished, but this isn’t something we can mess around with. Try talking to them, I’m sure they’d extend you for a year?”  
“They will, but I’m on a scholarship and it’s complicated.”  
“I see. Well, I can’t force you, but I can tell you that if your blood pressure keeps rising you’ll be back here having a premature baby.”  
“What if I start on methyldopa and promise not to work more than forty hours?”  
The doctor laughs. “Let’s wait and see how it is next week before we talk about drugs?”

I’d assumed we’d go straight home but she insists on going back to work to collect things and speak to the head of oncology.   
“Doc, can we just slow down for a second? This could wait until tomorrow.”  
“Tomorrow I need to be working, I have surgeries scheduled already. I can’t just shuffle patients around because I’m pregnant.” She smiles at Emily behind the front desk. “Do you know where doctor Stevenson is?”  
“He was consulting on a case a while ago but should be in his office now, would you like me to page him?”  
“No, thanks. I’ll find him.”  
He ushers us both inside and closes the door, a concerned frown on his kind, wrinkled face. “How are you feeling, Amelia?”  
“I’m ok,” she says. “I do need to cut back my hours if possible, though. I know that’s not fair on the hospital, but I have to put my health first.”  
“Of course.”

I listen to them nutting out the details, totally confused as to why she was so reluctant to approach them. In the end she comes out with a halved caseload for surgery and a cut back for her oncology patients with more research and consulting from home than face to face time at the hospital. She seems satisfied with it all, cutting down to three days per week, but I still don’t feel like she’s relieved even when we’re home.

## *~*~*~*~*~*~*

A week later her follow-up at the hospital isn’t much better but since her blood pressure hasn’t increased they decide to monitor weekly and see how it goes.   
“That’s good, right?” I ask her over dinner.  
“Not really, I could have not worried about work, cutting my hours hasn’t made any difference,” she snaps.  
“It’s only been a week, babe.” I reach over and squeeze her shoulder. “So I was thinking we could go shopping on the weekend, get a nursery happening in the spare bedroom?”  
“Okay, if you want.”  
“Could you be any less enthusiastic?” I laugh.  
“We can’t all just stop working, Chris.” She huffs and rubs her temple.  
“What… Doc, I was joking.”  
She doesn’t say anything, just keeps pushing food around her plate.   
“Would you please talk to me?”  
“Yes, we’ll go shopping.”  
“I meant talk to me about what’s going on. You’re really stressed, are you worried about something?”  
“Of course I am! Less hours at the hospital means I’m missing out on practising procedures I have to be confident in performing before I pass.”  
“Don’t bite my head off, but have you spoken to – ”  
“If that question is gonna end with any variation on ‘Margot’ or 'your therapist’, save it.”  
That pretty well answers it, then. I’m trying to help her but I don’t know how, she just has to accept that this is how it is. If I could carry the baby for her, birth it and the whole nine yards, I’d do it in a heartbeat. The timing sucks, it wasn’t planned, but we agreed we’d go through with it together.  
“Babe, look at me. Please?”  
She sets her phone down beside her plate and shuts off the screen before looking up at me, her gaze verging on a rabbit that’s just been rounded up by our pack of dogs.   
“Are you regretting your decision about…” I don’t even want to say it. “About having the baby?”

For a few anxious heartbeats she’s silent, her hands fidgeting in her lap. She looks down at the table while I watch her for some sort of indication and start to panic at the thought that she might say yes, because it’s far too late to change it. And then she sobs. There’s no watering eyes or quivering lip first, no tell-tale sniffle like she usually tries to wipe away with her hand, just a heartbroken sob that makes my chest feel like it’s caving in.  
“Hey.” I kneel beside her and she turns toward me, burying her face in her hands. “It’s okay, we’ll work it out.”  
“I d-don’t… I  _want_  the ba-baby.”  
“Tell me what’s upsetting you, then.”  
She shakes her head and looks up at me with tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m s-so… sc-scared.”  
“About being a mom?”  
She nods and takes a few hiccoughing breaths. “What if I’m… What if I’m not a good mum?”  
“Darlin’, there’s no way that will happen. You’ll be amazing, I know it.”  
“But… I already don’t want to stop working. I’m letting you take all this time off so I can leave a tiny baby and go back to work!”  
“That doesn’t make you a bad parent. All you have to do is love her, and you already do.” I take her hand and pull her over to the couch, cuddling her as tight as I can against me while she sniffles and sobs. “Is this what’s been bothering you all week?”  
“Yeah.”  
We stay there for at least an hour while I reassure her that she’ll be a great mom, though I’m not sure she’s entirely convinced. It’s only while I’m rubbing her back and kissing her temple I realise the crying has stopped and her breathing is soft and slow; she’s fallen asleep on my shoulder. I smile and breathe in the scent of her shampoo and she murmurs and shifts against me, bringing a hand up to my other shoulder before falling back to sleep. I wish I could make her see what I see, how amazing she’s going to be as a mother and that she doesn’t need to feel guilty about wanting a career as well. Now I think of it I’m fairly sure her own mother worked when Amelia was a child, and I know that’s where her ambition and drive comes from. Her parents are already planning to come over in a couple of months but I think she needs to talk to her mom sooner than that.

Not so long ago I’d have just put an arm under her legs and one beneath her arms and stood up, but now… I have to admit to being unsure I can lift her. The extra thirty pounds on top of her usual 120 shouldn’t be a problem but her shape is so different and all the extra is in the middle, the last thing I want to do is overbalance and drop her on the floor. My pride would never recover.   
“Doc?” I whisper into her ear. “Wrap your arms around my neck and hold on.”  
She complies with a faint murmur and I stand up with a much louder groan than I intended – thirty pounds is quite a bit more than I anticipated. I stumble a little on the threshold of our bedroom and she starts to giggle. “Put me down before you hurt yourself, Boston.”  
“I stopped a helicopter with these arms, baby.”  
“With a little help from CGI.”  
“Hush, or I will drop you.”  
She’s still smiling when I set her down on her side of the bed and kiss her softly. “I love you. I’m sorry I lost it on you before.”  
“Don’t be, I’m glad to know what’s been bothering you. It will work out, you are going to be a fantastic mom. Trust me.”  
“We’ll see,” she says as she tosses off her clothes and pulls on my t-shirt. “God damn it!”  
“What?”  
Amelia turns side on, my shirt bunched at the top of her bump. “It won’t fit.”  
I make a mental note to go back and buy her the maternity pajamas she said she didn’t need even though she admired them for ten minutes. “You’ll have to sleep naked,” I say with a shrug.

Lying in bed behind her I find my arms being pulled tighter around her as she places my hands on her, bringing one to her swollen breast and the other over her hip to her mound. “I need you, Chris.” She whimpers as I brush her nipple. “Please touch me.”  
This past week I’ve probably treated her far more gently than I needed to, I was worried about getting her too worked up and it took a few days for her head to clear. I brush her hair aside and nibble the side of her neck as my hand weaves between her legs and into her warm folds, moisture immediately coating my fingertips as I tease up and down. It’s only a few minutes before she’s clutching at the pillow and bucking her hips against my hand while I alternate rubbing her clit and pumping my fingers in and out of her heat. As I kiss her neck her moans vibrate through my lips and her thighs clamp down on my hand as she reaches her climax, shaking and shuddering and gasping for breath.

I lift her top leg and glide my throbbing dick straight into her cunt, burying it and enjoying the spasms of her muscles before I start moving. My thrusts start out slow and leisurely and I make love to her as long as I can hold out while her fingers make circles around her clit. I feel her pace quicken as I start to moan and push into her harder and her muscles are squeezing my cock as she builds toward another orgasm.   
“Oh, fuck… come with me, baby… I’m right there.”  
As soon as her pussy grips my cock I grunt and spill into her, holding her back tight against my front as we both come down with heavy breaths. I’m fairly sure she’s asleep before I pull out and pull the covers over us, her incoherent murmur in reply to my 'I love you’ all but confirming it.

## *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the weeks wear on and her belly grows we slowly turn the empty room into a nursery with soft mauves and pinks around light timber furniture. With Christmas only two weeks away now I constantly have to bring myself out of the future, I’m already thinking about our daughter’s first Christmas next year and how we’ll decorate the nursery for the next baby. I hope to be back in Boston by then, or at least in a house rather than an apartment, where they can play outside and we don’t have to worry about lack of space. I’ve purposely not discussed that with her yet, I’d rather not add to the stress of impending labour and trying to wrap up at work. She promised to be done by 34 weeks but then she took on a new case last week that will take her to at least 36 and I can see that stretching all the way to 40 if she lets it.

On a particularly blustery morning I come home from a run to find her sniffling in the kitchen.  
“What’s wrong?” I ask.   
“Nothing,” she chirps.   
I rub my frozen nose into her neck until she laughs and tries to push me away. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”  
“It’s stupid.”  
“I’ll be the judge of that.” I lean into her back and rub her hips the way she likes when they’re aching and she lets her head fall back against me.  
“How did you know I needed that?”  
“Because you’re in pain 90 percent of the time, it was a safe bet. C'mon. Spill it.”  
“Mum yelled at me. I asked her if I was wrong to go back to work in May and she yelled at me.”  
“Okay, but something else must have happened in between.”  
“I said I felt like I was going to be a terrible mother because I want a career. She said of course not, she did the same and managed to have both, and I said she was an amazing mum. And then I said 'so it’s fine for me to keep working until the baby comes, right?'”  
“And she said 'absolutely not, you have rising blood pressure and you need to listen to the doctor?'”  
“Were you listening?”  
I shake my head. “Another lucky guess. Babe, you’re already on medication and all it’s done is slow it down. It’s still rising every time you see the doctor. Remember she threatened to admit you?”  
“But this is an oncology case, no surgery.”  
“That’s not the point. I need you to hand it over to someone else. Please.”  
“You gonna yell at me, too?” She eyes me sideways.  
“I’d rather not, but I will if I have to.” I pick up the bottle of acetaminophen in front of her. “What’s this for?”  
“It’s a painkiller, Chris,” she says dryly. She starts to roll her eyes and then sees the serious expression on my face. “My head. Not that every goddam inch of me isn’t aching as well.”  
“You have a headache. Aren’t you supposed to call the hospital?”  
“I’m supposed to take those first, sit down and check my blood pressure, and  _then_ call the hospital.”  
“And?”   
“Well I took them and then you came home.”  
“Is it gone?”  
“It’s not any worse.”  
“Babe, come on.” I swipe the coffee cup from her hand and grab her shoulders, guiding her into a chair and fetching the blood pressure machine from the kitchen bench. “When are you gonna take this shit seriously?”  
“I am.” She slides the cuff onto her arm and presses the button. “I can’t just stop. I don’t know how.”  
I sit down beside her and squeeze her neck. “I love you, Amelia, and I understand. Your mother yelled at you because we’re all just trying to get through and make sure you’re staying safe and doing what the doctor says. How can I help?”  
“I don’t know.” She sighs and rubs her forehead. “I don’t wanna slow down and then have anxiety get the better of me. I’ve always coped better by staying busy.”  
“All right.” I look down at the reading on the machine and hand her the coffee and her phone. “You need to call the hospital.”  
While she’s doing that I make my own call to her supervisor, Doctor Stevenson. I know she’ll be mad. There will be tears and the dogs will all go and hide in their favourite dark corners while she tears me a new one, but it’s the right thing to do.

_Fuck. I really hope it’s the right thing to do._


	5. Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Moe

**Amelia**

I hate this. I keep going to tell Chris something that happened or something I saw, suggest a baby name or a nursery idea... and then I remember I'm not speaking to him, and I won't back down until he admits he went about it the wrong way even if his heart was in the right place. Work have put me on a strict schedule and threatened to remove me if I'm there when I'm not supposed to be, but I have plenty of study to do at home – I’ll do anything to keep me occupied. I don't want to be mad at him any more, but his total lack of remorse gets me angry all over again every time I think about it. When I was informed that my hours were being cut for my own safety I made them admit Chris had called them, and he was expecting me when I stormed into our apartment with steam billowing from my ears. Somehow even before I opened my mouth the dogs all knew a storm was brewing and were nowhere to be seen, when normally they'd greet me at the door.   
_“How dare you?” I said, seething through gritted teeth. “You completely undermined me and made me look like an idiot in front of my colleagues.”_  
“I understand you're upset but I had to do something to make you slow down.”  
“You had no right – ”  
“I had every right, Amelia,” he yelled, cutting me off and making me physically step back. “She's my baby, too. And you're risking both of your lives.”  
Chris doesn't yell, and we've barely had a serious argument the entire time we've been together – usually it all ends in laughter a few minutes later. When he raised his voice I knew I'd seriously upset him and probably not given him a lot of choice in what action to take, but I refused to let him off the hook for this.  
“It's my risk to take!”  
“No. This isn't about your rights over your body, it's about you ignoring medical advice because you're afraid to fail. It's about you neglecting to tell your employer that you're unfit for your regular duties. It’s about me doing my job as your future husband and protecting you, and if you want to yell and scream at me that’s fine. I did my job.”  
By that point it wasn’t his actions that were making me angry so much as his refusal to back down and apologise.  
“You did the wrong thing, Chris. My work has nothing to do with you and you had no right.”  
“It has everything to do with me, Amelia. Just like mine has everything to do with you, and we make decisions together. We plan our future together. That’s what marriage and family is about.”  
It was only the next day I realised he could have played the ‘I’ve taken a year off’ card and he didn’t, but I was still too angry to give him credit. 

Chris is now out finishing off the Christmas shopping and I just know he'll be wandering the shops all rugged up with a beaming smile on his face like a five year old, imagining how each family member will react when they open their gift. I feel so blessed to be marrying in to a family who does Christmas just like we do back home, and to be marrying a man who will never lose that childlike wonder at this time of year. I finish off the rest of my coffee – I’ve switched to decaf so it does nothing for my alertness but still warms me up on the inside – and lie back on the couch, resting the ipad on my bump and smiling when it moves with Butterflake’s rolling around. She immediately settles when I rub circles around it, I can only dream she might do the same so easily once she’s on the outside. I have to admit I'm just not feeling the Christmas spirit yet, I wonder if I'll ever get used to celebrating it in winter.

The next thing I know there’s a flurry of clawed feet down the hall and a soft chuckle from the doorway to the living room. I open my eyes and he’s standing there with the soft knitted sweater I adore making him all warm and inviting, the stubble on his jaw rapidly growing into a beard that I long to have bristle against my fingertips. His hands are full of bags from every store imaginable – even though this was the fourth or fifth round of shopping – and his soft laugh tells me I was snoring loud enough to rival a pug with a blocked nose. What Chris has with me (that he sometimes lacks with others) is patience in unending spades, and a day after the worst fight we’ve ever had he returned to his usual behaviour even though I kept him at arms’ length and responded coldly to every word and gesture. He won’t apologise if he truly believes he did what was right and even if we disagree on what ‘right’ is in this case I love him for the conviction.  
“Hey, beautiful. How are my girls?” he asks, setting the parcels down at the end of the couch, and just like that I’m not mad any more.  
“We’re good.” I stifle a yawn and smile.   
He kisses my forehead and begins moving the shopping to the study where the rest of the unwrapped gifts currently reside.  
“Chris?” I say softly, reaching toward him as he walks past.  
“Hm? What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing. Come here.”  
I bunch up the soft knit of his sweater in my fingers and pull him down so our lips crash together, kissing him until my cheeks are wet. “I missed you,” I whisper as our foreheads rest together.  
“I know, babe. Me too.” He swipes the tears from my face with is thumbs. “Are we okay?”  
“Yep.” I nod and he kisses me gently again, rubbing his hand on my protruding belly. “I love you.”  
“I love you, too. Is your hospital appointment this afternoon?”  
“No. Tomorrow.”  
“I’m just going to return a few phone calls, do you need anything?”  
I shake my head and he slowly pulls his hand away from my cheek with a watery smile. A few seconds later the door to the study closes and I can hear his muffled voice, calming in its familiarity. For a few minutes I try reading again but my brain doesn’t seem to be finished napping and no matter how hard I try my eyes won’t stay open so eventually I give in.

When I wake up it’s quiet. Too quiet, I don’t hear Chris’s chatter and the sun has sunk considerably since I closed my eyes. My hips ache from lying still too long and when I stand it’s slow and involves a lot of groaning and then a rapid waddle to the bathroom to relieve my squashed bladder. I follow almost inaudible humming until it grows to a soft tune at its source where Chris is sitting on the floor in the nursery putting together a mobile of clouds and rainbows, with a crate of torn packaging and a tool box beside him. I push the door the rest of the way open and gasp at the sight before me – what was a freshly painted room full of boxes and parcels just a couple of days ago now looks like the only thing missing is the baby.

Last week he painted the walls a very light grey and then hung (with the help of a friend and a lot of cursing) grey and white cloud wallpaper on one wall, and that was the last time I saw it. Now a round crib on one side is made up with pale pink sheets and a soft teddy bear dressed in a pink jumpsuit waits patiently inside; the same white rounded style change table is just a few steps away, adorned with lotions and padded with a marshmallowy pink towel; in front of the window a rocking chair beckons me to sit, its soft leather and snuggly folded blanket promising tender moments of baby bonding. Strung along one wall are rose gold fairy lights, but the one Chris sits beneath is giving off its own warm glow from eight globes in its centre, surrounded by crystals that make it look like a dandelion ready to be blown into the breeze.  
“Hey, babe,” he says without looking up.   
“Chris... this is beautiful. How did you do this?”  
“I got a little inspiration from Ilaria and made it up as I went. Is it okay? If you don’t like something we can change it.”  
“I love it, it’s perfect.”  
I lower myself to the heavenly soft rug and lean my head on his broad shoulder, and he wraps his arm around to squeeze me against him before returning his attention to the mobile. “I think this is more suited to your surgeon hands, Doc,” he says, handing the last thread to me.   
“I don’t so much have surgeon hands as sausage fingers right now.” I laugh as I finish it off and hand it back to him to attach, holding my swollen hands out to show him.  
“Babe, you need to take your ring off. If they swell up any more you won’t be able to.”  
He has a point, I notice as I try to spin my engagement ring and it doesn’t move quite as easily as it used to. Tears fills my eyes again at the thought of removing it, I still feel like I look at it a hundred times a day and get a little flutter in my chest. Silly as it sounds it was like my anchor to Chris when he was away and I was struggling with the idea of being a mum, when I was doubled-over with morning sickness or crying my eyes out for no reason and he was thousands of miles away and too busy to talk, just looking at it would remind me to breathe and push through it. It’s been on my finger since he put it there all those months ago and I know I’ll feel like I’m missing a finger without it.

“Come here, meatball,” he says with a laugh as he pulls me into his lap.   
In all honesty I am way too heavy to be sitting in his lap right now, I’m sure of it. If I’m cutting off the circulation to his vital organs he doesn’t let on, though.  
“Are you crying about your ring? Because we can get another one in a bigger size, just a temporary one until the swelling goes down.”  
“It wouldn’t be the same.”  
“Babe,” he chuckles, “I could buy you _the same ring_ in a bigger – ”  
“It’s not about the ring, Chris!” I cut him off and wipe my face angrily. “I’m supposed to love all of this stuff and it just feels like I’m juggling shot-puts. When they’re up in the air is like magic but then one clocks me on the head and it’s a bloody mess.”  
“You’re um... really struggling with those hormones today, huh?”  
“And I’m horny as fuck. But I was so mad with you. Last night while you were sleeping I thought about...” I trail off and shudder. “That’s not the point. Yes, I am. I seem to be feeling every possible emotion at once and I don’t know what to do about any of them. I’m sick of crying all the time!”  
He skims his hand down and gently squeezes my breast, my nipple hardening through my bra and shirt. Everything tingles in response and I let my head fall back onto his shoulder with a sigh.  
“How about,” he kisses down the side of my neck, “we start with,” his hand moves around my belly in a circle and then inside the soft waistband of my pants, “the horny part. I can help with that. Open your legs for me, babe.”  
I whimper and shift to sit on the floor between his spread legs and open my thighs, his fingertips finding my folds soaked and engorged. He dips inside and nips at my neck while I grip his knees, and then he circles my clit slow and deliberate, making my hips jerk.   
“I really need to come,” I sigh, slightly appalled by my own needy tone.   
Chris straightens and clears his throat, pulling his hand away. “We gotta move to the bedroom.”  
“But I’m comfy here and it will take me half an hour to get up!”  
He’s already on his feet, holding out his hands to help me upright. “I can’t, not here.”  
“Huh?”  
He sighs and slumps his shoulders forward. “I can’t... you know.” He thrusts his hips forward and grunts. “Not in the baby’s room.”  
“We’ve done it in here before, when you insisted on christening every room.”  
“Amelia, I can’t have sex in front of the baby stuff. Okay? It just feels wrong.”  
I’m laughing so much my sides hurt while he pulls me up and then slaps my ass when I turn around to walk out of the room.  
“Hey!”  
“If you weren’t so pregnant right now I’d throw you over my shoulder, woman.”

I’m still laughing when he grabs me and pulls me hard against him, kissing me fervently while I claw at his clothes. While he’s stepping out of his pants I toss off my shirt and bra and push my pants down to the floor, crawling onto the bed and remaining on all fours, swaying my hips in invitation. Chris reaches out and spreads the growing moisture over my lips, slipping his thumb inside me and then up over my clit until I moan and drop down to my elbows, gripping the covers in my fists.  
“Please fuck me,” I whimper. “I need you. I need to come.”  
“I fucking love it when you’re begging for my cock.”  
Chris kneels behind me and shoves in with a deep groan, jolting me forward on a loud cry. His first thrusts are long and slow but then he holds my hips and drives into me hard and fast, grunting and panting with every slap of his hips. He leans over me and takes his weight on one hand, pinching my nipple with the other while my hand finds its way between my legs and rubs my clit. I feel the coil tighten in my core and my muscles firing off tiny pulses around him until finally I reach my peak with a high-pitched moan. Chris doesn’t slow or stop like he normally would to let me recover, he keeps pounding into me and then grinds against me as he comes inside my contracting walls.  
“Shit,” he says, chuckling softly as he kisses my back. “I didn’t mean to finish that quick.”  
“I don't care,” I mumble into the pillow and hum contentedly.  
  
  


A few moments later he lies beside me and I turn to face him, toying with the ring on my finger. I really don't want to have it cut off, my stubbornness might well rival the most hard-headed of goats but I'm not totally unreasonable, but when I try to slide it off my finger I find the skin in front of it bunching up and stopping it. Chris watches intently, his eyes growing wider with every attempt, and then produces a bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer.   
“You're not just a pretty face, Boston.”   
He squirts it onto my finger and it glides free so quickly I drop it onto the bed with a squeal, and as soon as I locate it in the sheets I carefully set it on my nightstand so I can clean it and find a safer place later.   
“Feeling a bit better now?” He kisses my forehead and rubs circles around my belly, pausing every time he feels Butterflake move.   
“Yeah.” I stroke his cheek with my fingertips and he turns his face to kiss my palm. “The nursery looks beautiful, Chris. I can imagine putting her down in the crib, rocking in the chair by the window with her.”  
“Me too, it's starting to feel real. She needs a name, I was thinking maybe something a bit Australian?”  
“I don't know if we have that many real Aussie names.” I frown thoughtfully. “There are a few boy ones that have significance – Brock, Ned, Banjo... Lawson.”  
“Banjo could work for a girl.”  
“Yeah, I guess it could. Let me think about it.”

The next few hours I'm wandering around with an iPad in front of me, tossing names at Chris and noting down the ones he likes and his suggestions that I like. I'd planned on getting more study in this evening but I'm suddenly too excited by baby names to worry about it. While he's in the kitchen I sit at the bench and start making a list.  
“Kylie?” I ask.  
“Like Minogue? Is she gonna be born in gold hotpants?”  
“I hope not.”  
“Kylie Evans...” he screws his nose up and shakes his head.   
“Ok, moving on.”  
“What about Sydney?”  
I frown and look for some sign that he's joking. “You want to name our daughter Sydney?”  
“Well it's very Australian, and your favourite place in the world.”  
I'm not sold on it but the list is looking dismal and so far they're all my suggestions so I add it anyway.  
“Melba?”  
“Absolutely not!”  
“Hmmm...” I scroll down the page while he starts chopping vegetables for dinner. “You want some help?”  
“No, I want you to keep going. This is fun.”  
“Victoria.”  
“No.”  
“Adelaide?”  
“Maybe.”  
“Darwin?”  
“Seriously?”  
Strike that one off, then. “Buster.”  
He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. “I like that. Buster Evans.”  
“Poppy.”  
“Yes.”  
“Sadie?”  
“I really like that. How is it Australian?”  
“Sadie the cleaning lady,” I reply without further explanation, as if he’s going to immediately know what I’m talking about. I feign exasperation when he looks even more confused. “I’ll play you the song later. What about Shiralee?”  
“Did you just make that up?” He laughs.  
“No, it’s the title of a telemovie. It means a swag of belongings.”  
“Ok. Yeah, it’s not bad.”  
“Nellie.”  
“Ooh, yes.”  
“Matilda?”  
“No.” He screws up his nose. “Went to school with one, she was a bitch.”  
“Aurora?”  
“Sleeping Beauty. Some guy might come along with a poisoned apple and then rape her.”  
“You’re really dark sometimes, Boston.” I continue scrolling until a pretty name catches my eye. “Acacia.”  
“Bless you.”  
“Chris!” I pick up a dinner roll and throw it at his face, which of course he catches and tosses back at me. “We're having a baby girl,” I say quietly. “A daughter.”  
“You only just letting that sink in?” He chuckles and raises an eyebrow at me.  
“I think I am.”

It's as daunting as it is exciting, as terrifying as hell and yet everything I never realised I wanted. As I watch him groove around the kitchen I fast forward a little in my mind, see our little girl rocking in a swing watching her daddy with a gummy smile, sitting on the bench handing him ingredients and helping with the measuring as a toddler, writing in her homework book while Chris and I talk about our day. She's daddy's girl, with her luminous blue eyes, fair skin, and straight dark hair, and she shares his wonder and enthusiasm for all things space and Disney. I've been fighting the allure of it, trying not to get so wrapped up in the excitement of becoming a mother that I lose myself, while Chris has jumped in with both feet and is completely immersed and ready. I'm all about a woman's right to choose the kind of mother she wants to be, and I've always known how blessed I am to have a career where I'll have the choice to work or stay at home, but it never occurred to me that Chris has the same right and he's made the decision. And just as it wouldn't make him less of a father if I were to stay at home while he continued working and being away all the time, I'm no less of a mother for letting him have that first year to bond with his daughter by being her primary carer.   
“Doc?” Chris says, leaning across and stroking my knuckles with a long finger. “Are you in there?”  
“Yeah.” I smile. “You're going to be a wonderful daddy, you know.”  
“I hope so. Someone asked me not long ago if I saw myself directing in ten years and I said no, that I wanted to be back in Massachusetts with a family. Now, I'm not going to open that particular can of worms again because I understand there has to be compromise, and either way you have to finish up at AMC and see what happens, but this was always something I hoped to have. I'm just getting it a little earlier.”  
Always when I think I can't fall any deeper, he surprises me. “I love you, Chris. And I forgive you. We'll have to disagree on whether you did the right thing.” Honestly I think I might love him more for not telling me what I wanted to hear, for not backing down and apologising even though he wasn't sorry.   
“I love you, too. I'm still not sorry but I'm glad you're not angry with me any more.”

That evening he's set up beside the massive Christmas tree with wrapping paper and so many gifts I don't know how we'll fit them in the car when we head to Boston in a couple of days, while I'm finishing up researching a new drug that's had some promising results for canine liver cancer. This Christmas was supposed to be spent in Australia – as soon as I knew Butterflake was due in February I canceled those plans – so I’ve been less enthusiastic than usual. I don’t want that, though. I feel just as comfortable surrounded by Chris’s family now as I do mine, even if it makes me miss them that much more, and I don’t want to be keeping a mental tally of time spent with ‘your’ family vs ‘mine’. Mum and Dad will be here at the end of January, in time for the birth, and I have to hold out until then to see them, but that doesn’t mean Christmas is a total bust. In fact if anyone puts on a Christmas close to the one we have back home – minus the beautiful hot weather and sand in every crevice from long days at the beach – it’s Lisa and the Evans family.

Chris looks up from the roll of paper he’s prying the plastic wrap from when I bring my notes and laptop to the living room and spread out on the floor beside him.   
“What are you doing?” He looks at me quizzically, the lights are dimmed and the tree lights are making rainbow splotches on my notebook.   
“Making it work,” I say simply. “I can't help with the wrapping but I can sit here and be immersed in Christmas spirit. Where's the music?”  
“I didn't want to disturb you.”  
“You can't wrap presents without carols, Chris.”  
He leaps up like an excited child to get his phone and within seconds he's singing along to Bing Crosby. Now it feels like Christmas, and I have to admit the white kind we’re expecting in Boston is pretty special.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help Chris and Amelia name their baby girl!
> 
> Here are the options:
> 
> Banjo  
> Sydney  
> Adelaide  
> Buster  
> Poppy (Amelia’s favourite)  
> Sadie (Chris’s favourite)  
> Shiralee  
> Nellie
> 
> To vote just comment below, you can also vote on Tumblr or Wattpad. Multiple votes are welcome and encouraged!


	6. Five Currant Buns

## Amelia

It seems only yesterday we were blessed with a beautifully white Christmas, the ripping of paper and excited squeals of children, the inviting smell of roast dinner blending with the pine of the fresh tree. On New Year's Eve we saw midnight tick over with friends on the roof of our building before I retired ungracefully to bed and let the others continue into the wee hours.   
Five very long weeks have passed since then.  
Four weeks since I officially started my leave from work – consisting of frantic nesting, rearranging the kitchen cabinets only to put it back again, washing and rewashing tiny baby clothing.  
Two weeks since I got so desperately horny that Chris thinks Christmas has come all over again and the vibrator I’ve never had to use while he was home has come out of retirement.   
In spite of all that sex I'm now three days past my due date. I am excited, frustrated, horny, terrified, and almost as wide as I am tall.

“Chris?” I whisper into the dark.  
“Hm? Is it baby time?”  
“No. But I want it out. Now.”  
“She'll come when she's ready, babe. If not, the doc will evict her at the end of the week. Go back to sleep.”  
I turn over with a series of grunts and groans. “Can't.” My hand wanders down his chest, over his abs, cupping his flaccid cock gently.   
He chuckles deep in his throat. “Woman, you are insatiable and shameless. And I love it.”

Moments later I'm rubbing my swollen folds back and forth over his hardened length, his fingers squeezing my breasts and pulling my hips. The knot tightens deep in my stomach and I move frantically until my thighs and back burn, my lungs screaming for air with the effort, my clit relentlessly stimulated until I begin to unravel. At the first clench of my pussy I release the breath I was holding and slow my strokes, letting the contractions and euphoria wash over me as Chris is soaked in my juices.   
“Fuck, babe, that's so hot. You wanna switch?”  
In response I shake my head and notch his cock into my entrance, sinking down on his length as he groans at my clenching pussy. His jaw turns slack as I ride him in long fluid movements, bracing myself on his outstretched hands with our fingers intertwined. I can already feel another orgasm building – not only am I inhumanly horny but I also come as quickly as a male giraffe in his two seconds of mating – but I'm distracted by random tightenings in my back that are becoming mildly painful. For a few minutes I raise up onto my knees and let Chris do the work, thrusting up to meet me in the same rhythm and brushing my g-spot with each pass.  
“Yes, baby... Right there...”  
“Come for me, Amelia. Mmm I can already feel it.”  
Chris puts one hand between us and the second he touches my clit I come undone, gushing on him with a grunt and resting back down on him to catch my breath. His strong hands rub up and down my sides and over my belly and he pauses a moment to look up at me with wide eyes.  
“Your whole belly just tensed up, does that always happen?”  
“Sometimes,” I say breathlessly as I start to move again. “It doesn't hurt, though.”  
He soon forgets about it, his eyes rolling back as he turns rigid and floods me with warm cum only minutes later.

When I lie back down beside him my back and belly are still tightening and releasing.  
“Don't get excited, but I think what you felt might be really early contractions.”  
Despite the preface of 'don't get excited' he sits bolt upright. “Should I get the bag?”  
“Chris, they're not even painful. This could go on for days.”  
He hums contentedly and rests a large warm hand on the side of my belly, kissing the back of my neck as he curls around me. “Wake me if anything changes.”  
And then he's breathing softly on my shoulder while I stare at the wall and hope to god those niggles get stronger during the night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I never thought I'd be so disappointed to wake up without any sort of pain or puddle of fluid. Getting up and showering requires effort akin to running a marathon so that I'm puffing and groaning like an octogenarian when I emerge, only to sit back down on the bed for a short rest. Chris glides in a few minutes later with a large wooden tray, setting it on the dresser and arranging a pile of pillows for me to lean against the headboard. I grin as he holds my arm and wraps the blood pressure cuff around it.  
“Nice and still, please,” he says seriously before pressing the green button. “Inaccurate readings don't help anybody.”  
“Yes, nurse Evans,” I say with a chuckle.   
“Shh.”  
He frowns thoughtfully as it deflates before writing down the reading on a sticky note and taking the device away. The rest of the tray is carefully placed on my lap, arranged beautifully with a single flower, thick raisin toast, coffee, juice, and a tiny little cup of tablets.  
“Babe, this is beautiful. Thank you.”  
“Anything for my favourite patient.” He kisses my lips tenderly and then makes to leave.  
“Where are you going?”  
“Well, miss, I have other duties to perform today.”  
“You're not my personal nurse?”  
“Let me correct that and I'll be right back.”  
I don't know what he's up to but I hear him talking on the phone for a few minutes before he returns with a paper bag.   
“What's in the bag?”  
“You'll have to wait and see. Now eat, hopefully you'll need the energy.”

When I'm done Chris replaces the pillows I was leaning against with his own naked body so that we're the perfect example of a birthing position we learned in a class just after Christmas. I discard the robe I pulled on to eat breakfast and sit between his thighs with my legs folded together, leaning my back against the warmth of his chest and letting my head rest on his shoulder. With my eyes closed I don't see where it comes from but the rich sweet smell of the blended oils on his fingers barely registers in my nostrils before his hands are rubbing and squeezing my shoulders and the sides of my neck, warm and smooth and taking away the tension I hadn't noticed with every expert stroke.   
“Mmmm,” I hum and relax my arms onto his legs. “That feels amazing.”  
Chris leans me forward and works his way down my back, each hand working its side like dough until every knot is released and every fibre lengthened and supple. His strong fingers work slowly around my hips with careful restraint before kneading hard into my aching lower back and weaving their way back up to my shoulders. He only pauses to pull me back against him and then I feel warm oil drizzled down my chest and artistically around each breast. I melt into his front in a quiet state of bliss as his hands glide in circles around both globes at once, pinching both nipples simultaneously until I whimper before increasing the circles to find the outside once more. My mouth falls open with a gasp as he drags the flat of each palm back and forth over the now straining peaks, whipping me into an aroused mess.

I crane my neck back to kiss him deeply and feel his rumbling groan into my mouth as he continues toying with my swollen breasts and squeezing my nipples.  
And then I feel it, a tiny trickle down one side of my belly and then the other, making me pull back in alarm.   
“What's wrong? Did I hurt you?”  
“No, I thought... I felt something...”  
“Yeah. Milk.” He shrugs and smiles. “Happened last night, too.”  
“Oh.” A hot blush rises in my cheeks as Chris places one finger on my chin and guides my face toward him until our eyes meet.  
“Don’t worry about it, it’s beautiful.”  
I scrunch my nose and he laughs.   
“Trust me. There is nothing more sexy than your pregnant body. All of it.”  
Releasing my face he lifts the bottle of oil and this time I watch him trickle it in patterns all over my belly, setting it down on a saucer before he begins massaging it into my painfully tight skin with his huge hands.   
“That smells heavenly, what’s in it?”  
“A blend with Clary Sage that’s supposed to help bring on labour and a couple of others to relax your muscles and soothe your skin. The naturopath down the street made it up and I cleared it with your doctor first.”

I rest my head on his strong shoulder and sigh with content, knowing I’ll always have those broad shoulders to carry some of the burden whenever I need it. The strong arms that wrap around what’s left of my waist will always hold me close and carry our daughter safe and secure; the hands and fingers caressing my skin will always be right there to calm my fears, and one day they’ll hold our daughter’s tiny hand while she takes her first wobbly steps, scoop her up when she falls, and soothe her in the middle of the night. Chris’s pulse beats steadily beside my ear like the lullaby that puts all of my anxieties to rest, his hands stilling when I thread my fingers between his and wrap them across my abdomen.   
“I love you, Christopher.”  
“I love you, too.” His soft lips kiss the top of my head and he waits for me to place my hands back on his knees before allowing his to roam again.

The sensual scent and sound of the oil on my skin has left a dull ache pooling between my thighs, every touch is like the oil heating up and conducting the current straight from his fingertips to my core. I wriggle back against him and arch my back, reaching my arms up to clasp around the back of his neck. Chris widens my legs, carefully draping each one over the outside of his so that I can feel the cool air on my wet folds, and hums appreciatively as he kisses the side of my neck and steps his fingers down the dark line that now connects my navel to the patch of hair atop my mound. I angle my hips upward, desperate for his touch, but he drags his fingertips like claws back up my sides and over my ribs until I whine.

Chris’s mood shifts immediately, like a spark has ignited him into more urgent action. Although neither of us shift position his hands are all over me, starting with kneading my breasts as hard as I can tolerate while the other hand rakes down my throat. This time I watch him squeeze a drop of milk from my hard nipple and suck it from his finger before offering one to me, and I’m surprised at the sweet taste. When I try to reach behind to his growing cock he stops me and puts my hands back on his knees, his fingers finally teasing slowly up and down over my folds. Every action is deliberate and considered; his long fingers entering me and stretching my walls, swirling around my g-spot until my hips buck; two tips spreading a generous amount of oil around my bud and rubbing with long strokes or tight circles. I’m already moaning and pleading, my juices coating his fingers and the sheet beneath me as every touch makes my breath catch. When he buries three fingers in my cunt I cry out and grip his thigh, the heel of his hand unrelenting in its delicious pressure on my clit as he starts to pull them back and forth over my g-spot. The steady pace seems to take hours to tip me over the edge but when he does I feel the muscle contractions in my entire body; my hands shake in their white-knuckled grip on his thighs and my toes curl into the sheet; my back turns painfully rigid as I arch back against him; and the breathy screech that tears from my throat doesn’t even sound like me.

Slumped back against Chris I feel the euphoria begin to ebb away, the time between pleasant spasms of my cunt growing longer with each round. With as much finesse as I can manage and limbs like jelly I turn over and keep my eyes on his while taking his cock in my mouth. The precum is salty on my tongue and my lips gently push his foreskin back with each downward stroke, his balls heavy and hot in my hand as I draw moan after moan from his open mouth.   
“Fuck, babe...” He tangles his fingers in my hair and guides me up and down while I start to stroke my swollen folds again with a flat hand. I pause when his breath hitches in his throat and move up his legs, straddling his hips as he sucks my nipple into his mouth.   
I’ve just positioned myself when he draws back hard and I feel a pull in my chest, yelping and pulling away from him.   
“What happened?” he asks.  
“I don’t know. I felt that up in my chest, like you were pulling something.”  
“Are you okay?” He massages my breast gently with his fingertips.  
“Yeah, it didn’t hurt.”  
I lower myself onto his thick cock, and again before I start to move he takes my nipple in his mouth and sucks. The sensation is like being pinched on the inside, but this time when I look down at him he’s licking his lips, and I remember reading something about let-downs and milk ducts. I comb my fingers into his hair and he eagerly comes back for more, sucking harder this time until I’m overwhelmed by the sensation and start rolling my hips on his length. As I fuck him he alternates sides, kissing me with sweet milky lips and tongue in between, until it no longer feels taboo or awkward to have him suckling the droplets from me – rather I’m careening toward another intense orgasm, and from his muffled moans Chris isn’t far behind.

Right as I reach my peak he groans through gritted teeth and bites my nipple, tipping me into a violent orgasm that covers his thighs in my juices and rips a guttural cry from my throat. His warm seed is still flowing in to me when the first painful contraction tightens my belly and makes me dig my nails hard into his shoulders as I breathe through it. We’re standing together in the shower when the second takes me by surprise and I lean against the wall while he rubs my back with one hand and feels the hardness of my belly with the other. It takes another five before I concede they are real and I’m in labour, and another two hours and three calls to the hospital to convince Chris that I don’t have to go in yet. He times them meticulously with an app on his phone, waiting for the magic number of ‘6 minutes apart’ – we agreed that was the point he could use whatever means necessary to get me in the car.

The sun has dipped behind the taller buildings and everything is calm and quiet – exactly how I wanted it to be. Even before I knew I was pregnant, even before I knew I wanted children, I had images in my mind of my own birth experiences. I guess I’ve been influenced by delivering animals, watching them isolate themselves and focus internally when birth is imminent. There are no crisp white sheets or needles to take away the pain, just a quiet, dark corner and natural instinct. I’ll never forget the first time I found the birth centre around the corner, with its birthing pools and king sized beds, the sterile instruments and emergency equipment hidden away, and the midwives using hushed voices and unhurried steps – it was like I’d found my own corner. Unfortunately my blood pressure has since breached the set threshold for birthing there and I’ll be delivering our little girl in the hospital, which is why I’m so adamant about staying at home until the last possible second. I want this to be an intimate and memorable experience for Chris and I, when we go from being a couple to being parents, from partners to a family of three. Once I get there I’ll have to be monitored closely for distress to either of us but in this early stage I’m determined to trust my body.

Chris returns from putting the bag in the car downstairs, panting as he opens the door expectantly. The excitement and anticipation on his face is actually greater than I’ve seen before – at Disneyland and Christmas combined, which I didn’t think was possible – and I pull out my phone to snap a picture of him before his expression changes to confused.   
“What was that for?”  
“Well, you’ve taken about a hundred of me already. I wanted to remember that look on your face.”  
“No contractions while I was gone?” he asks, opening the timing app on his phone.  
“No,” I grind out as I feel everything begin to tighten up inside. “Now.”  
“Okay. I got you.”  
He kneels in front of me and I press down on his shoulders – his poor, very strong shoulders are going to be black and blue tomorrow – and sway my hips side to side.   
“30 seconds,” he announces at what should be the middle and most intense point. The tension and resultant searing pain is making me nauseous, now. My uterus feels as though I’ve been put into a torsion brace and it’s being tightened in all directions at once, ripping me apart. “Breathe, babe. Almost there. Shhhhh.”  
For once he isn’t trying to quiet me, but reminding me to breathe in and then ‘shhhh’ the air out as hard as I can, giving me something controllable to focus on.

“We gotta go, sweetheart.”  
I wipe the moisture from my eyes and sip from a glass of juice as the pain subsides, shaking my head. “No. I’m doing okay.”  
“I know you are,” he says with a smile while holding up the screen of his phone, which shows 5 minutes 55 seconds as the last interval. “But it’s baby time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadie and Adelaide are leading the naming votes so far - get your vote in now if you haven't already!  
> Banjo  
> Sydney  
> Adelaide  
> Buster  
> Poppy (Amelia’s favourite)  
> Sadie (Chris’s favourite)  
> Shiralee  
> Nellie


	7. Golden Slumbers

## Chris

It’s true what they say, doctors really do make the worst patients. Now I know this applies to veterinary doctors as well.

I understand why Amelia wanted to remain at home as long as possible and I almost regret pushing her into it, if there weren’t genuine concerns for her health I would take her home for a while longer. As soon as we arrived she was put onto a bed for monitoring and within a few minutes they had her doctor in the room to advise – her blood pressure was dangerously high and the baby’s heart rate was occasionally decelerating with her contractions. Doctor Perkins consulted with Tara the midwife for a few minutes in hushed voices before Amelia piped up out of introspective silence with a firm ‘no’.  
“What, babe?”  
“I don’t want a c-section.”  
“Who said anything about that?” I turned around to glare at the doctor.  
“She said anesthesiologist and OR, I can fill in the rest.”  
The doctor walked over and looked again at the printout from the machine attached to Amelia’s belly before pressing the start button on the blood pressure monitor.  
“Amelia, we need to discuss our options. I know you’re feeling pretty average, you’re coping really well, but we need to be prepared for all contingencies. If your baby’s heart rate continues to decelerate, or your blood pressure keeps rising, we will have to perform a caesarean section for your own safety.”  
“My blood pressure would be lower if I could get... off... the bed,” she ground out, gripping my hand through another contraction.   
“I’m sure it would, but we have to keep a close eye on you. I know you said you didn’t want anything but gas, but I would recommend an epidural at this stage to try and lower your BP.”  
I shuddered at the mention of gas – I was expecting some fun times with the stuff but she only had one breath of it and was violently sick. Like ‘The Exorcist’ violently, I really shouldn’t have let her have those pickles before we left home. She reached for my hand and tears spilled from her eyes.  
“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” she said with a sob, shaking her head. “I want to wait longer.”  
“All right.” The doctor consulted again with the midwife and they both returned to the bed. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’m going to put the bed as low as it goes, which is only about a foot off the floor, and you can use any position you like as long as you stay on the bed and the monitor is still on. We’ll reassess in an hour, unless that number goes higher than 170 systolic or 110 diastolic, at which point you agree to let us do whatever we need to do. The same deal if baby’s heart rate drops below 100 or takes longer than 20 seconds to bounce back after a contraction. Deal?”  
 _I’m glad it’s not my decision because at least half of that went over my head._  
“Deal,” Amelia said with a tight smile.   
“We’re going to give you two some time, Tara will be back in a few minutes.”

She’s fought so hard, endured pain to a degree I can’t begin to fathom. I’ve heard groans and whimpers torn from her raspy throat as she rocked on hands and knees, her fingers clawing at my shoulders and sweat beading on her face. I did everything I could between contractions – supported her so she could rest somewhat comfortably, wiped her face and neck with a wet cloth, held a drink while she sipped through a straw, and rubbed her hips and pelvis however she directed me – but I’ve never felt so helpless in my life, and it’s only intensified now that the pain has subsided.  
“I’m so scared,” she says in a tiny voice.   
In truth, I can’t think of an emotion I’m _not_ feeling right now. When she first told me she was pregnant the image in my mind did not involve a sterile operating theatre, or being dressed in scrubs, or watching her laid out on a table about to be sliced open. Still, we’re about to meet our daughter, and I couldn’t care less whether she exits the usual way or through the sunroof, as long as all of the frightening numbers and risks have eased and she emerges healthy.   
“It will be over soon, babe. We’re going to meet our baby girl.” I wipe the tears from her face and kiss her dry lips, stroking her temple with the back of my knuckles. “I’m so proud of you, making it this far and keeping her safe all this time.”  
“All right, Amelia. Ready?” Doctor Perkins says from the other side of the drape.  
“Yep.” Fresh tears pour from her eyes and she tightens her grip on my hand.   
The midwife keeps her occupied with conversation while her belly is opened up and I cringe at the way she’s jostled on the table. “So once she’s born we’ll put her up on your chest for a bit, then hand her over to dad while we close you up.” Tara looks over at me. “She’ll be in recovery for about an hour, we’ll take you and the baby straight to her room to wait.”  
“Are you doing okay, Amelia?” the doctor asks from the other side.  
“Yeah,” she says softly.  
“One last incision and she’s out.”

Everything falls silent for a few breaths while we wait, and then we hear a cry that immediately turns me to a blubbering mess. Initially I was disappointed I wouldn’t be cutting the cord, but I wasn’t keen on seeing Amelia’s uterus outside of her body, either. Right now, none of that could be further from my mind. Our baby girl is here, and she’s got a good set of lungs.

Tara brings her around the drape and tucks her straight under the blanket against Amelia’s skin – another term she stubbornly negotiated despite having only a minute between intense contractions and barely being able to talk – where she immediately stops crying. Finally I see the relief on her face, the letting go of the calm, natural labour she’d planned, because none of that matters.   
“You did it, my beautiful girl. She’s perfect.”  
“Oh, god. Chris, she’s just...” She bites her lip as fresh tears stream from the corners of her eyes and I kiss her, reaching my hand out to touch the baby’s head for the first time as I sob uncontrollably into her shoulder.  
“I love you, so much.” I finally get a hold of myself and lift my head to watch her tiny head and body wriggling around for a few seconds as though she’s trying to climb off. “What’s she doing?” I ask with a soft chuckle.  
“She’s rooting,” Amelia says with a proud smile.   
Baby continues until she finds Amelia’s nipple and sucks it into her mouth with a contented whimper. I’m in total awe, complete with mouth hanging open, I had absolutely no idea babies did that. Amelia just watches and strokes the top of her hair tenderly, and I fall in love all over again with them both.

“Chris, you’re going to have to take her,” Tara says quietly. “Doctor Perkins needs to close Amelia up.”  
“Tara, you’ve been amazing, and I mean no disrespect. I am not under any circumstances going to take that baby away right now. She’s feeding, and she’ll stay there until she’s done. Either she closes with the baby there, or it can wait.”  
Tara steps away to talk to the doctor and they both give me a nod from across the table, when I look back down Amelia is beaming up at me. “Wow. Protective daddy.”  
I shrug. “Sometimes I open my mouth and Steve Rogers comes out.”

Eventually, when the internal sutures are finished, she’s sleeping soundly on Amelia’s chest and I bundle her up to head back to the room and wait.  
“She can’t go without a name,” Amelia says. “Poppy or Adelaide?”  
“Sadie. I know we narrowed it down to the other two, but don’t you think she just looks like a Sadie?”  
“I do.” She smiles. “Sadie Mae Evans.”  
“Get some rest, mommy. We’ll see you soon.”  
We’re taken to our own room before Sadie is weighed and measured and checked over, and then I’m left alone with her in my arms. Mild panic starts to wash over me – what if she gets hungry before Amelia comes? How do I know if she needs a clean diaper? What if I fall asleep and drop her?

_Get a grip, Evans. Jesus._

It’s only when I see the darkened windows of the opposite hospital buildings that I realise I have no idea what time it is, I actually thought it was the middle of the day. I’m not confident on which day, either. My watch tells me it’s just gone midnight and I’m a little relieved that no one will be visiting for at least another eight hours – I want it to be just us for a bit longer. I look down as Sadie stirs in my arms with a series of whines and whimpers, her little face contorting in all sorts of weird expressions. Standing and swaying I sing quietly to her as she stills and goes back to sleep, her tiny hand reaching up out of the blanket and her fingers curling around mine in a tight grip.   
“Hi, Sadie Mae, I’m your daddy,” I whisper against her soft hair. “I can’t believe you’re finally here.”

Just like that, our lives will never be the same.

*~*~*~*~*~*~* _**One Month Later *~*~*~*~*~*~***_

Sadie’s first month is a blissful blur of sleepless nights that I wouldn’t change for the world. Amelia still has to take it a little bit easy but is already studying again while I’ve got a good routine going with the cooking and cleaning. All things considered Sadie really is an easy baby, she doesn’t cry a whole lot and she’s taken to feeding easily without giving Amelia’s boobs too much grief. She even loves daddy time and will just as happily go to sleep for me as she will for mommy, whether it’s in my arms or the pram. So far, aside from the total exhaustion and sometimes so much coffee we’re both unable to sit still, I think we’re doing okay with this parenting thing.

It’s early morning when I roll over and find Amelia sitting up with Sadie suckling away at her breast, grabbing tight to her shirt as she likes to do while she’s eating. The light coming in the window behind them gives them both a golden sort of glow, I move closer and lie my head on Amelia’s pillow, snuggling into her leg.  
“She’s in my spot,” I mumble.   
She laughs softly and ruffles my hair with her free hand. “Are you worried about today?”  
I sigh and scratch at my beard. Before we left the hospital Sadie had a hearing test and was referred for further testing at one month. They reasurred us at the time that most babies who fail the initial test just have residual fluid in their ears from birth and I've consoled myself with that and her somewhat traumatic birth until now, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little apprehensive. At the same time, though, Amelia didn't have any of the viruses that can cause deafness, she didn't take any drugs or do anything she wasn't supposed to during pregnancy, and I don't see anything in Sadie to suggest that she's deaf.  
“Not really,” I fib. “I just want it over with so we know there's nothing wrong. Are you?”  
“No, I don't see any reason to.” She smiles down at Sadie, gulping happily. “I'm so happy, Chris. Nothing has turned out the way I pictured it, and yet I'm just... so fucking happy.” She laughs.  
“Don't swear in front of the little sponge! She'll come out with 'fuck' as her first word because she hears it so much!” I reach up and stroke her face with the back of my hand. “I am, too, babe. I'm really excited about being a full time dad.”

We arrive at the hospital with a slightly larger pink bundle than we left with a month ago and somehow we've timed it well enough to pass both Tara and doctor Perkins in the hall, who stop to gush over Sadie and remark on how well she's growing. Of course this makes us a couple of minutes late for the hearing test, by the time we rush in and get settled I'm relieved it's a quick and easy thing to do. This time they have Amelia hold her and I feel an odd sense of pride that Sadie sleeps through the whole thing just like they wanted – as though it's a deliberate act or a skill I've personally taught her. It's the same woman who did it last time – with Harley Quinn-style hair in pigtails and a bubbly demeanor, and she leads us back to the waiting room to wait for the results.

Sadie is getting restless in my arms and Amelia’s eyes are scanning the room, assessing whether she should feed her here or go somewhere more private. I used to be very vocally in favour of breastfeeding in public but now Amelia has made me aware that for some women it’s not about people looking or judging – it’s about having to take a boob out of your shirt and attach a screaming baby to it, and it can be awkward and embarrassing when you’re dripping milk on yourself, or worse spraying a small stream of it. And she does, because she’s been expressing milk for her return to work she’s making a tonne of the stuff, just a couple of days ago I was sitting next to her when she pulled her bra down for Sadie to feed and shot milk onto the coffee table a couple of feet away.

_If I suggested providing a rain coat for the man sitting opposite would that lighten the mood, or would she slap me?_

“Well this has to be little Sadie.” I look up to see a woman with dark cropped hair and glasses peering into the wriggling blanket on my lap. “I’m Jane Hannan, an audiologist with the hospital. Would you mind coming with me so we can do some additional tests?”  
“Um, sure.” Amelia stands and smooths down her shirt. “Is something wrong?”  
Jane waits until we start walking toward the elevators. “Both of Sadie’s tests so far have been inconclusive, so we’re going to use some more sensitive equipment to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with. It could just be residual fluid, that should have cleared up by now but sometimes it does hang around and cause issues, either way we’ll hopefully have an answer straight away.”  
“Oh. Ok.”  
Amelia squeezes my hand and I give her my best reassuring smile, but I’m as confused and frightened as she is.

 


	8. Humpty Dumpty

## Amelia

At the best of times feeding Sadie is still a bit of a production, getting her in the right position and holding her comfortably while making sure her mouth and everything else is right still feels more foreign that just letting her have at it and do what comes naturally. Unfortunately letting her just suckle without any intervention – as I found out very early on – leads to agony and serious concerns that my nipples might fall off. Now, attempting it in front of Jane while she talks us through the testing they're about to do, I've never felt more of an amateur. The more stressed I become the more Sadie cries and thrashes, until finally Chris lays a flat hand on my back and leans in close to my ear.   
“Just breathe, babe. Take your time.”  
I take a few seconds to sort myself out and then finally, without spraying anyone with milk as I feared, she latches and gulps hungrily.   
“Once she's fed and settled we'll put her over here on the table, where she's braced in and can't fall off, while we do the tests. It looks worse than it is, she'll likely stay asleep for the whole thing.”  
“Should we be worried?” I ask nervously.   
“Let's wait until we have the results. I'll be able to tell you straight away if it's a hearing problem or a blockage.”  
Her answer does nothing to settle my fears. My heart is beating so fast it's all I can think about and my chest feels as though someone is sitting on it. When Chris tries to calm me down I can't even fake a smile for him, and Sadie's unsettled mood is likely something she's picked up from me. By the time she's still enough to lay her on the table I feel sorry for Jane having us sit in her lab all this time, but she gives us nothing but warm smiles and reassurance.   
“I need you guys to sit in those chairs as quiet as possible, please,” she says. “This will just take a few minutes.”

A different set of headphones are used this time, and watching her lie so still I wonder if she's supposed to wake up at the sound or do something in response. I'm sure the flyer said not to worry if baby doesn't flinch during the test but now I think that was just meant to reassure those parents like us whose babies don't pass. She certainly lets us know when a probe is placed shallowly inside her ear, enough that Jane jumps and then laughs, but she settles easily with a hand on her chest.   
“The second test was for fluid in her ears, and there isn't anything abnormal there. We'll book you in with a paediatrician today and they might order more tests but at this stage we know that Sadie has a moderate hearing impairment at least, she may be further toward the severe end of the scale. I realise this can be a lot to take in, I can arrange a cousellor to come and speak to you right away if you like?”  
“Um... no, that's fine. What does this mean, though? She can hear but not very well?”  
“The most likely outcome is that with intervention – hearing aids, cochlear implant, speech therapy – she will be able to speak and lip read.”  
I can't process what she's saying. I can't breathe, can't think, I'm surprised I'm able to even hold onto her with my numb arms.  
“But she won't hear? She'll have to use sign language or something?” Chris asks. His voice is tiny, not the jovial strong punch I'm used to.  
“She won't hear like you do, no. At this degree of impairment she may be able to hear a loud sound at the right frequency in a perfect environment, but something like a conversation in a crowded room would just be a roar of noise, if anything. Often congenital deafness progresses quite quickly into severe or profound loss, but with early intervention in the first few months, when language development is so huge, we'd expect her to keep up with her peers. Only she'll be predominantly using signs as well as speech.”  
Chris nods and sniffs, a lonely tear trickling down his cheek.   
“Take some time to process this, it's a lot to take in when she's so young,” Jane says. “Please don't delay getting help, though. It's so important to do it early.”  
“Who... how do we...” I look up at them, searching both of their faces as the walls close in around me. “When will we know what to do?”  
“You'll be seen by the specialist as a priority so you should know in the next couple of days.”

Chris is a mess as soon as we're out of the hospital, it's all I can do to make sure he's wearing his sunglasses and hope we don't look as bad as we feel. Guaranteed the first pics of us with Sadie will be the ones on the way home, not the fresh looking parents who were prepared for cameras on the way in. When we get home she's awake and starving again – which is good because my boobs are fit to explode – and I somehow end up on the couch with her suckling away on one side while Chris sobs into the other.   
“It will be ok, you'll see,” I tell him weakly. “With all of the intervention and technology available... we'll just have to adapt.”  
He sniffles and hiccoughs against me. “You're right, I know. I just... There's gonna be things that are harder for her than for other kids. And then other teenagers, other adults. For her whole life. I want to be able to make her life as easy as possible.”  
“I know you do, babe. But this is how it is. We'll do whatever we can to make it easier on her and I'm sure she's inherited her daddy's fighting spirit to get her the rest of the way.”  
“I'm not the one with the fighting spirit,” he chokes, kissing my cheek. “I love you so much, Amelia. You're handling this so much better than I am.”  
“I'm not, I promise. I'm still in shock.”

We're all still huddled on the couch long after Sadie has fallen asleep on my chest, as though it's our refuge while a hurricane tears everything else apart. Before I move it's getting dark outside and my stomach aches heavily, reminding me with every step that I massively overestimated my abilities today. After the audiologist called them we were straight up to meet with a paediatric ENT specialist who wanted an MRI done straight away while Sadie was sleeping, and they took some blood for testing. Exhausted doesn't even begin to cover how I feel, and just when I think a soak in a hot bath is just what I need I remember that I'm not allowed to have one until my stitches are out and the wound is healed. A shower is just not the same – mostly because I still have to stand up when I just want to collapse and be rid of the heaviness – but the rush of the water is like a buffer, and the dam bursts.

Our beautiful Sadie Mae is deaf.

The tears flow until I don't think they'll stop and I can't muffle the sobs any more. I feel guilty for even being upset when there are so many families who have to go home without their babies, who are affected by terminal illness or much more traumatic disabilities. Deafness is a disability, and it will change her life, but there's so much support available that that in itself is overwhelming. But I am devastated, and the thought of her never hearing my voice or hearing Chris sing to her makes a lump grow in my throat until I can't breathe for crying.

The next thing I know Chris is in the shower with me, fully clothed and holding me tight against him so I can wail into his chest. When the water starts to run cold he shuts it off and wraps me in a fluffy towel like a tired child, making a fresh wave of tears stream from my eyes, dressing me in one of his t-shirts and the very unflattering but comfortable granny panties I'm forced to wear thanks to my new scar. Then he pulls back the covers and insists on bringing dinner to me in bed.  
“I need you to promise me something,” he says as I bite into the best toasted sandwich I've ever tasted.  
“What's that?”  
“That you won't hide your tears from me. This is gonna be hard, Doc. Fucking brutal, at times. We gotta have each other's back and I can't do that if I don't see what you're feeling.”  
“I'm sorry, it wasn't deliberate. I just wanted to be there for you, first.”  
“You're allowed to fall apart, babe. Whenever you need to.”  
“I'm pretty sure I just did,” I say with a weak smile.  
“Yes, but you didn’t have to hide in the shower to do it. Okay?”  
I nod and groan as I shift on the bed, trying to get closer to him and comfortable. And then, when I finally do, I have to get up and use the bathroom. When you get swollen in late pregnancy everyone reassures you that it will pass on its own after the baby is born, but they never tell you that it will ‘pass’ once the baby is born. Continuously.   
Chris sighs as I reach the bedroom door. “Would you please take the pain meds, now? Look at you, you can’t even stand up properly.”  
He might have a point, I’m hunched over like an old hag, all that’s missing is the false teeth and a cane – I even have the panties. I surrender and he hands me the bottle and a glass of water.

Thanks to total exhaustion, sleep comes easily. Restful sleep eludes me, though, and I keep waking in a cold sweat from nightmares. The same ones that have plagued me since the siege have now begun to include Sadie and become a thousand times worse as a result, and twice I wake to Chris holding me tight against him and soothing me back to sleep. When I next rise to cloudy consciousness his side of the bed is empty and I can hear Sadie crying across the hall, so I drag myself heavily out of bed and make my way to her with my breasts already aching and ready. She’s lying on Chris’s chest in the rocking chair as he rocks back and forth, falling silent and murmuring contentedly every time he sings to her, and when I appear in the doorway his eyes glisten with tears in the nightlight.  
“She has her ear on my chest,” he says with an incredulous smile. “I don’t know if she feels it or hears it but every time I sing she stops.”  
“That’s incredible, babe.”  
Unfortunately for Chris I’m guessing her little nose has just registered the smell of what she really wants – milk. She turns her head toward me and starts screaming like she wasn’t fed just a few hours ago. He lets me sit down and then hands her to me but remains in the room, sitting on the ottoman and resting his head on my other shoulder.   
“I’m not going back to work,” I say quietly, keeping my gaze on Sadie’s peaceful face. “If you want to go back to Boston we can do it now.”  
I feel him shift but for a long time he doesn’t say anything, and then, “No. It’s only until the end of the year, and we might find better access to specialists here.”  
“Chris, if I commit to this it’s more long hours. I can’t promise to make it to every appointment, you’ll be doing all of the extra stuff she needs on your own.”  
“I know.” He shrugs and smiles up at me. “I didn’t sign up for this on the condition that she had no special needs. I signed up to be a dad to Sadie and a husband to you, and all that that encompasses. All of it. When you’re done we can talk about moving. You can’t just give up when you’re so close to finishing.”  
I sigh and give in, even if I wanted to argue I’m too tired.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Is it me, or is this place starting to feel kind of homey?” Chris asks as we sit outside the obstetrician’s office at the hospital.   
“It’s not just you.” I watch him holding Sadie out in front with his huge hands, one under her bottom and the other her neck and shoulders, bouncing her gently and pulling faces while he sings and chatters at her.   
She’s sporting new accessories for our six-week checkup, in the form of tiny hearing aids which are coloured mauve and so sweet I will admit to squealing a little when I first saw them. It’s supposed to be too early to know and I might be imagining it but I think she’s more responsive when they’re on, and it gives Chris a reason to talk to her and behave like a fruit cake everywhere we go. ‘It’s good for her language development, babe!’

While I’m rifling through the baby bag looking for some paperwork Chris nudges me with his foot.  
“What?”  
“Look!” he says out the corner of a funny face.   
I sit up and look down at Sadie, catching her face breaking in to a huge gummy smile. The more we smile back at her the bigger it grows, and then I’m swiping away tears.  
“Hey, baby girl,” Chris says. “Do you have more big smiles for daddy?”  
She closes her mouth and frowns and I burst out laughing. “Sorry, daddy. No more smiles for you.”  
“Come in, guys,” Doctor Perkins says from the door to her office. “Oh, how precious! She’s beautiful. All going well?”  
We go through the process of testing and fitting the hearing aids with her while she nods and smiles down at Sadie. We know now that it’s genetic, which means we both carry the gene and have a high chance of more children with hearing loss. I won’t lie, when we were told that I broke down. There’s no surgery to fix it, nothing that can be done other than amplifying the hearing she has, and she will rely on hearing aids and sign language the rest of her life. Also Chris wants a big family and I’m not sure I could handle the four or five children he wants if they’re all deaf, selfish as that sounds.   
Chris takes Sadie out for a walk while the doctor checks me over. “The scar will be tender for a while, emergency ones always take a little longer to heal. How do you feel?”  
“Fine. It gets a bit sore if I walk around too much but otherwise I’m good. This will go away eventually, right?” I point to the pouch on the front of my belly. “I’m not gonna be a kangaroo forever?”  
“Give it time,” she says with a laugh. “It will shrink. Any other questions?”  
“Can I.. can we... you know.”  
“Yes, you can have sex again. I'll give you a prescription for the pill, one you can take while you're breastfeeding.”  
“If we decide to have more children, will I automatically have c-sections?”  
“Not necessarily, we'd have to assess it at the time. Ideally you should wait twelve months between pregnancies either way.”  
“I don't even know if we'll have more, but we'll definitely wait a year in between.” Just the thought of _only_ a year between makes my head spin.

By that evening she's smiling so often that I have to chastise Chris for keeping her up too late, he just wants to keep on making her smile. Not that I can blame him, that smile could brighten the darkest of days and warm my heart no matter what else is happening. After dinner and a shower I slink into bed beside him in a sheer nightgown, cut so low between my massive boobs that his eyes almost pop out of his head.  
“I got the all clear today,” I say as I press my body against his.  
“Oh, really?” he replies with a raised eyebrow, rolling to his side and taking me in his arms.  
“Make love to me, Chris. I need you.”  
And he does, slowly and without any sense of urgency. He makes a face when I insist on remaining covered in my chemise, but doesn't say anything. Instead he holds me close and fills me, grinds against me until my inner muscles spasm and cling to him and I lose control, my body writhing with his in blissful entanglement. With our mouths locked together he reaches his peak and I feel the flood of warmth inside, the throb as he empties and stills, keeping me crushed against his chest until I'm sinking into sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sadie seems too small for me to be leaving her to go to work. On my first morning back at the hospital Chris walks me to work with her in the pram so we can introduce her around, and the entire time everyone's gushing over her (and her teeny tiny hearing aids) I'm dreading the moment I will have to say goodbye for the day and leave her in Chris's care. I know she'll be perfectly fine, she's taken to bottles easily and I have enough milk in the freezer for a week, and I wouldn't say she's any more attached to me than Chris, but she's just gone nine weeks old. Thankfully I won't be back to full duties for another month, I'll be doing a lot of study and prep work from home and no long surgeries or lifting patients. It's funny how your priorities shift so quickly, it doesn't seem so long ago I didn't know how I'd cope being away from work for this long and now I wish I could stay at home a bit longer.

After an hour of my office being filled with people wanting to meet Sadie and welcome me back it's finally fallen quiet and Chris plants a soft kiss on my head.   
“We're going to head home, okay?”  
“Okay,” I say softly, swallowing the tears that form a lump in my throat.   
Chris rubs my back and squeezes me against him. “Do you want to feed her first? She's about due anyway, it will save me giving her a bottle when we get home.”  
I know he's just doing it to give me one last feed before he leaves, but I'm not going to pass it up. He hands her down to me and I stroke her hair while she's suckling, rub my finger over the tiny bumps on her cheek, breathe in that sublime baby scent. “Anyone would think I'm never going to see her again,” I say through the tears that spill down my cheeks. “It's only a few hours, right?”  
“I'll take good care of her and you'll be too busy to cry. If all else fails we can come back for lunch time.”  
“That's tempting.”  
As I hand her back I kiss her forehead and she snuggles into Chris's chest with a milk-drunk smile.   
“We love you, doctor mommy. Have an awesome day, okay?”  
“I'll try. Don't forget to put the gel on...” I trail off and smile. He knows. We've been through everything and he knows how to take care of her just as well as I do. “I love you.”  
“I love you too, babe.”  
As soon as he leaves I'm needed in a meeting where I get my case load and a run-down on the patients I had to hand over before I started maternity leave, then I'm assisting in a straight forward tumor resection to get my head back in the game. Although Sadie and Chris are never far from my thoughts, especially when I'm on my way between consults or when I sit down for lunch and some reading, I'm occupied enough that I don't spend the whole day missing them too much. Through the day he sends me plenty of photos and updates, from sleeping to playing on her mat, tummy time, when she rolls over, even one of her nappies which is much more detail than I really needed. For the first time since I started my residency I actually walk out the door at five o'clock so I'm home in time to bath Sadie and put her to bed, snuggle into her soft warm pajamas as she falls asleep.   
“Sweet dreams, Sadie Mae,” I whisper as I kiss her cheek.

“How was your day?” I ask Chris when I emerge from Sadie's room and find him cooking dinner.  
He turns away from the stove with a huge grin. “So awesome. I know there will be hard days, like taking her to the appointment tomorrow, and there will be days when she's unsettled, but today was just so much fun. Hanging out, daddy and Sadie time. I feel like this is how it was meant to be.”  
“Let's hope you're in this good a mood every night, hm?”  
“Ha ha. We'll see.”  
I can only hope.

 


	9. Itsy Bitsy Spider

## Chris

“What are you guys doing today?” Amelia asks, scooping Sadie from her bouncer. Both of their faces light up with huge smiles, whether Sadie is smiling because it’s mommy or because she’s about to be fed is irrelevant.   
Hell, if I could lie in her lap and suck on those gigantic tits for half an hour I’d smile, too.   
“Chris? I doubt Sadie is going to answer me?”  
I clear my throat and follow them into the living room where she’s signing and saying “Hungry?” to an increasingly frustrated baby who is, very clearly, hungry. We’ve both thrown ourselves into learning sign language and starting to teach her some signs, I have to admit it’s been a while since I’ve used this much brain power on anything other than acting. I think Amelia’s brain is more suited to study than mine, she’s picking it up way faster than I am even when she’s working and studying at home. For three months now she’s kept her promise to balance work and home and she seems to be relaxing into her working-mom routine, though I know she beats herself up about missing Sadie’s appointments and she was devastated to miss her starting to roll around to get across the room. Our dogs are now Sadie's favourite toy and they’ve been amazingly patient with her fur pulling and tail grabbing.

“I was momentarily distracted by how beautiful you are.”  
“You were looking at my boobs, Boston.”  
“I was looking at your boobs, yeah. How could I not?” I sit down beside her. “Today we’re going to the park, Elise is meeting us there.”  
“The speech therapist?”  
“Yeah, she...”   
There’s a storm brewing, her crystal clear eyes have suddenly clouded over. She looks like she’s trying to swallow it but it’s a losing battle.   
I clear my throat and continue. “I thought some sessions outside might be a nice change.”  
“This was your idea?” Aaaaand I just stood in front of the supercell with a lightning rod like a fucking mad man.  
“Well, it was both of our ideas. Rather than sit in an office – ”  
“An office full of toys,” she interrupts.  
“Yes, but Sadie isn’t old enough for most of them. We thought outside would be nice. There’s sky and trees to talk about, new sensory stuff for her to explore. Babe, Elise is a therapist. She’s not looking to hook up with her client’s father.”  
“Good.” She nods smugly, like she’s just shut down a non-existent challenge for my affection.   
I’m not going to be the one to correct her, I’m just glad it’s over. “Do you have much on today?”  
“Two big surgeries and a new consult in between. A great dane with suspected osteosarcoma.” She rubs her hands together and I lean back with a laugh.  
“You’re way too excited about that, Doc.”  
“I’m excited because there are new treatments we can try. The tumor is on his foreleg, and if we can pinpoint the radiation we don’t have to amputate or even do a bone graft. There’s also a vaccine I’d like to give him down the track that is believed to reduce the likelihood of it metastasising in his lungs.”  
I just blink at her, she lost me somewhere around foreleg. “Ah... in English?”  
“He has bone cancer in the bottom of his front leg, we can use directed radiation to kill the cancer cells where we used to have to amputate, and then give a vaccine that might stop the cancer from spreading.”  
“And you’re going to do all of that?”  
“I’ll coordinate it, he’s my patient.”  
“I’m so proud of you. You were always a brilliant vet but to be curing cancer – ”  
“Treating cancer,” she laughs. “I’m not curing it just yet. I can’t wait to go back and show Brad and the others what we can do now, take all of this back to Australia and make it more available.”  
My blood runs cold so suddenly I shiver. She’s mentioned visiting Australia before but not practising there, this is sounding quite permanent. “Yeah.”  
Amelia hugs Sadie tight to her chest while kissing me goodbye, signing ‘goodbye’ and ‘I love you’ to both of us before I say “Mommy’s going to work,” and take her. She sits contentedly on my hip while Amelia slings her bag onto her shoulder and sighs. “Have a great day, you two. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Elise has been amazing from our first appointment, she’s young enough to be enthusiastic but experienced enough to really know her stuff. And she’s honest, there’s no pussyfooting around the fact Sadie is deaf or sugar coating her prognosis. She’s told it straight from day one, what her realistic prognosis would be, how we can help, the statistics for children who are deaf falling behind academically. We’re a little early but she’s already set up on the grass with a huge picnic blanket, 2 takeaway coffee cups, and a basket of goodies.   
Will Amelia think Elise was overstepping by texting me to ask if I’d like a coffee when she got herself one? Probably. Do I think that? Not at all, she’s going to be a part of our lives and Amelia needs to get used to that. She trusts me the rest of the time, I have no idea why this is different.

  
“Look who it is, Sadie! Say ‘hi, Elise’.” I only sign ‘look’, ‘hi’, and ‘Elise’ but I must be getting better – I don’t sound like a tape player with flat batteries today. Signing and speaking at the same time even when it’s only a couple of words takes all the power my brain has.   
Sadie smiles wide as I unbuckle her from the pram and set her down on the blanket. She seems to change every day now, grabbing things and rolling all over the place, pushing up onto her hands and knees and getting stronger all the time. I feel like six months has flown by and her hearing impairment isn't so frightening as it was in the beginning. Sure it's a challenge, I wonder all the time how she'll find her place in a hearing world, but if she's anything like her mother she'll just make it happen. Amelia worries that she's missing out on too much and although she's conscious of finding the right balance her work has begun to creep in on her time at home just a tiny bit. It's only a few more months, though, and we'll be talking about our next move.  
“Everything okay, Chris?” Elise asks.   
I startle and stare at her blankly. “Sorry, I was a million miles away.” Almost literally, I was thinking about what Amelia said, about going back to Australia.   
“How has your week been? Any babbles yet?”  
“It's been good, yeah. We visited my family on the weekend and there were definite deliberate sounds from Sadie. She's been flapping her hands around a lot, too, I wondered if she might be copying us?”  
“It's entirely likely, that's great. And you're ready to start with food?”  
“We're waiting for the weekend. Amelia wants to be there.”  
“Of course, it's a big deal having the first taste of food.”

We spend about 20 minutes singing nursery rhymes and playing games, clapping and signing to Sadie. I think just in that time Elise shows me thirty signs I didn't know before, and if we're going to keep doing 'Humpty Dumpty' I'll have to practice my finger spelling, but I can see Sadie waving her hands a little and thinking about how to copy what we're doing. If not for teaching her to sign and seeing so many specialists I'd wouldn't know half as much about brain development as I do and it's so fascinating to me to watch her little brain changing and learning all the time. We're watching some birds and signing when she looks me right in the eye and laughs for the first time, startling herself with the sound. Both Elise and I freeze in stunned silence for a minute before she does it again, her mouth open in a wide grin and her bright blue eyes dancing with happiness. As soon as we join in she giggles some more and I pull out my phone to record the precious moment for Amelia.   
“That's huge, Chris,” Elise says when she's leaving. “It's a really big step. She can hear it and she's deliberately making the sound. That's really great.”  
“Does that mean she can hear more than we thought?”  
Her smile softens. “No, but it does mean the aids are working like they should. I'll see you at the end of the week, gorgeous.”  
“Aww, Elise.”  
“Talkin' to your daughter, Chris!” she says over her shoulder.

Early that evening Sadie rubs her eyes with balled fists, resting her sleepy head on my shoulder. Amelia should have been home an hour ago and I don't think I can keep the baby awake any longer if I wanted to. I had to give her a bottle before her bath when she was crying for it but she only drank half, I honestly think she wants mommy to top her off. When I finally hear her keys in the door I plan on doing a quick handover, but Amelia turns to close the door and frowns when she sees Sadie on my shoulder.  
“She's asleep,” she whispers. “Dammit, am I that late?”  
“Yeah, babe. I'm sorry. I kept her awake as long as I could, but she must have crashed in the last couple of minutes. If you take her she might wake up, she must be still hungry.”  
I gently lay her in Amelia's arms, where she stirs a little and falls back to sleep before we make it to the bedroom. “Sweet dreams, beautiful girl. Mummy loves you.”

Within the first five seconds of the video I know I should have been better prepared. I'd hoped she'd just be happy that her daughter is laughing, I didn't think about the other emotions that might come with it. Amelia's joyful smile is quickly buried into my chest and I hold her tight against me, rubbing her back. We stay like that in the middle of the kitchen for a few minutes before she asks me to play it again.  
“I should've been there,” she whispers, wiping beneath her eyes.   
“It's fine, babe.”  
“It isn't. In one day I've missed her first laugh and putting her to bed. This is the first time she hasn't breastfed before bed since she was born!”  
“How about I get you a glass of wine and you can relax until dinner is ready?”  
She pulls away and shakes her head, unfastening her hair and running her fingers through it wearily only to scrape it back into a rough bun. “I have work to do.”

So begins our new 'normal', the pattern that has slowly but surely replaced the evenings we used to share.   
Amelia reads while we're eating.   
She highlights and makes notes while I'm feeding and playing with the dogs.  
“Do you have much more to do?” I ask, my hair still dripping from a hot shower as I stand before her in nothing but a towel.   
“Yeah. You go to bed, I'll be in when I'm done.”  
The longer I lie there alone the more my brain wakes up. This is how it's been for weeks, the time she comes home is slowly moving back until tonight when she missed Sadie completely. Then she works until some ungodly hour, slips into bed exhausted and sleeps until the alarm goes off and she has to get ready for work again. I'm not angry or resentful, I know she hates it as much as I do, but it's crept up so slowly I'm not sure she really knows it's happening. Some time between then and when I feel her warmth beside me I must have fallen asleep, but it's only a few seconds before parts of me are awake again.

I turn and press my front against her back, savouring the smooth skin of her bare legs as she allows mine to slip between them. My lips press a few kisses to her neck above the collar of her shirt and she pushes back against me, reaching back to drape my arm over her waist. As I let it skim over her hips and beneath the hem she stiffens, and when I feel her ribs under my fingertips she murmurs softly.  
“I'm really tired, babe. Can we just go to sleep?”  
“Of course. I love you.”  
“I love you, too. Thank you for understanding.”  
How can I not? I can't very well be frustrated if she doesn't want sex, but I'm starting to wonder when we might get back in sync. We used to be so good at this, not just sex but 'being' together whether that was in bed or reading or whatever we were doing. I think we communicated better when I was away filming and she was working between 60 and 70 hours a week, when sometimes in the middle of phone sex she'd blurt out something about an electricity bill. It worked reasonably well for us most of the time, maybe now we're spending too much time in the same bed. Maybe since Sadie was born she doesn't find me attractive any more – the thought makes me chuckle in my head – even though I think she's more beautiful than ever.  
“Is everything okay? You're just tired?”  
“Because I couldn't possibly not want sex, right?” she snaps. “Today my daughter laughed for _Elise_ ,” she says with a kind of disgust as though _allegedly_ that's her name, “while I was at work. Her last breastfeed for the day, the one I've been holding on to as the only time we spend that's just us... she obviously doesn't need me for that anymore, either.”  
Now I wish I'd waited until morning to open this can of worms. “She laughed for me, Amelia. Her daddy. The man who cares for her while you're at work, who signs and talks to her until my throat is raw. That doesn't make me better than you, but could we please acknowledge that we were at a therapy appointment, not a social outing? I'm sorry that you missed it but you're cheapening it for me by saying it happened for Elise. And while we're at it, you should try giving her an ounce of the respect that she has for both of us. She's gone above and beyond for Sadie already and we're going to be seeing her regularly, and she has never been anything but professional.” I roll onto my back and prop up on my elbows, now wide awake. “You have no reason to feel threatened.”  
“Please remember this conversation when _you_ miss out on something because you're away or working.” She laughs without humour and rolls toward her front as though she wants to move away but has nowhere to go.  
“Would you just tell me what's going on with you?”  
“I'm tired. I'm working long hours to get this finished so I can spend some time with my daughter. My brain is so full of information about congenital deafness, and statistics for further children, and osteosarcoma, and dosages per kilogram for chemotherapy in chihuahuas, that I never know which random fact might come up when I'm searching for something specific.” Her voice turns tiny and quiet and she rubs at her temple. “I'm fucking struggling, Chris. I don't know if I can do it all but I'm trapped, I just have to find a way.”  
I reach out and cup her shoulder with my hand. “If you want out we'll find a way out, don't you ever think you have no options.” I sit up against the bed head and pat my thigh, the spot where she often falls asleep when she's not well. “Come here, baby girl.”  
Almost immediately my leg is wet with her tears. “I love work, I don't want to just give it up or finish my residency and stop practising, but I can't seem to get the balance right. What if I never do and she hates me because I was never around?”  
I barely hold back a chuckle. “She's only six months old, I doubt you're doing her any long term psychological trauma just yet. Before you know it we'll be talking about what to do next year and you'll be able to work part time if you want. I'm sorry you missed her today, that must be rough.”  
“I'm sure Elise is great, I just... you know there were photos going around and rumours that she was your naughty nanny, right? A fucking client came in late this afternoon and showed me for a laugh because she knows not to believe that bullshit.”  
“You know not to believe it, too.”  
“Yeah, but... it hurts. They called it a coffee date and said you couldn't take any more of me prioritising my career ambitions over starting a family. That we weren't married because we were only staying together until Sadie was born.”  
“Hey.” I wait until she looks up at me. “We know the truth, remember? Only us. Maybe it's time we made it known that she can't hear.”  
“That would make it worse! What kind of mother leaves her deaf baby at home with...” she trails off and looks away.  
“With her father?” I finish. “Gee, I don't know. One who knows she's in good hands and knows that her own wellbeing is just as important?”  
“Sorry. You know that's not what I meant.”  
For a long time she's silent while I comb through her hair with my fingers and let it fall onto her shoulder, her fingers light and still on my knee.   
“Babe?” I whisper.  
“Mm?”  
“Are we okay?”  
It takes a few anxious seconds for her to open her eyes and sit up between my legs, tugging her shirt down before she takes my face in her hands and presses a kiss to my lips. “I love you more than ever, Christopher Evans. We're better than okay. I know I've been an absent mother and distracted doctor, but worst of all you've barely had any of my attention and you deserve so much better.”  
“I get it, I just want to be sure. If you need something from me you have to tell me.” She nods, and I cover my torso with my hands and give her a coy smile. “I thought maybe you weren't attracted to my post-baby body. I can get back into the Cap workout if that would help?”   
Amelia slaps my abs with a firm backhand. “Nah, I like you soft and cuddly.”  
“I...” I look down at myself and then back at her cheeky grin. “Really?”  
“Fuck, no. There's not a soft part on you. You could be the marshmallow man and I'd still find you sexy as hell, though.”  
“We need to continue this conversation at a more reasonable hour, I think.”  
With a few long kisses and stifled giggles she finally falls asleep in my arms, her face resting on my chest right over my heart where she belongs.

When my alarm sounds at 5:30 for my run she rolls over and groans. “Where are you going?”  
“Running.” I kiss the top of her head quickly. “I'll be back in an hour.”  
To my surprise she has a tight grip on the front of my shirt and hauls me back down on top of her, refusing to release me and instead splaying her legs for me to lie between them. “Skip it. I'll give you a workout here.”  
“But I'll get all soft.” I pout, and she leans up to bite my bottom lip. “Are you harbouring a marshmallow man fantasy I don't know about?”  
Amelia just winks and tugs my shirt over my head, running fingers, lips, and tongue over my skin. I know better than to compare – circumstances change and we have to adapt and evolve – but this is a glimpse of the old Amelia, the one who floated naked in a Queensland swimming hole, and rode my cock on a plane somewhere between Melbourne and Sydney. The Amelia who wasn't weighed down by guilt over her parenting. Her shirt and panties are quickly discarded and without further ado her delicate hand guides my cock to her entrance and cups my balls, massaging gently as I push inside.   
“Mmmm... Chris,” she whimpers as I thrust home.   
I push up to gaze down at her, her rosy cheeks and dark eyes all for me. She arches her back and pushes her breast into my waiting hand, biting her lip as I knead it and dig my fingers into her soft flesh.  
“When you're inside me... ahhh... everything else just falls away.” Her nails threaten to break the skin of my shoulders, and she moans so sweetly as her hips meet my thrusts eagerly.   
I was foolish to doubt her libido, to think that anything short of mental exhaustion and overwhelm would keep her from letting herself be temporarily lost in us. Where I crave the physical display of love she needs complete immersion, to be released from all of the other identities for a while and be nothing but mine. My fiancee, and soon my wife.   
As her orgasm builds her body responds of its own volition, angling her pelvis just so and rocking against me, pulling me down so her nipples graze my chest with every movement and her mouth is free to explore my neck. I smile at the shuddering breath she heaves in, deafening in the relative silence as her moans and affirmations cease, and wait for that wondrous wave to take over her muscles and bring them crashing down around me, pulling me in deep and coaxing my warm seed into her womb.

Our senses recover with her top half draped over my chest, her fingers absent-mindedly toying with the thicker hair down the centre. Even more than the act itself I've missed this, the afterglow where she turns soft and weightless and our dmpassioned conversations are only ever about dumb shit like the hidden complexities of Disney films, or whether She-ra could really have beaten He-man to a pulp, or how NFL makes perfect sense and Australian Rugby's rules only apply when it suits the referee.   
Then there's today's topic: “Mum sent over some Vegemite for Sadie.”  
I don't know what on earth would possess someone to produce a paste that looks like grease and tastes like the pan drippings from a roast that's been forgotten in the oven for months, let alone to add a literal ton of salt to it and call it a national delicacy; but if coca cola was originally a cleaning product, Vegemite must have been an alternative to soap on a child's tongue for offensive language. Both should probably have been left to their original uses.   
“Please can I be here when she screws her face up?”  
“She won't, Chris. She's an Aussie kid.”  
“Actually...” I trail off and let it go, because nationality is way too serious a topic to take on right now. Especially when I'm hesitant to bring up returning to Australia.   
“Where do you think I got my rosy cheeks?”  
“I have no idea what you're talking about, but I imagine it's something to do with the great fucking hole in the ozone layer right over your country and you were over-exposed to UV rays. That or you're an alcoholic. Either one might fit, you lot drink like fish.”  
“It is a scientifically proven fact that Vegemite is the reason for Australian children's rosy cheeks. It says so on the jar.”  
I laugh and pull her in to me, bringing her lips to mine while we're both still smiling too much to do anything more than press them together. When she returns her head to my shoulder I see Sadie moving around on the video monitor behind her and watch for a few seconds, waiting for her to cry to be picked up.

Instead we spend ten minutes listening to her babble and wriggle her hands in front of her face, only stopping to rock for a while on her hands and knees like she might just take off and crawl at any moment. When she does insist on our presence it's with more of a yell than a cry and while Amelia makes her way to the nursery I'm sobered by the realisation that she is actually trying to communicate with us, using both her hands and voice. No doubt there's a fancy name for that but it escapes me right now, I'm too taken with watching our daugher's fascination with her her own voice. As Amelia approaches her difference again becomes apparent – Sadie can't hear us approaching. First thing in the morning her hearing aids are still on the shelf and she's watching the subtle movement of the mobile above the crib so there's no indication that her mommy is entering the room until she comes into view and startles her enough that her bottom lip begins the quiver.

But then, as though Sadie knows that mommy really needs a win today, she giggles. Hands down the best game of peek-a-boo I've ever had to privilege to witness ensues, and I think those five minutes will carry Amelia through another year of hard days if need be.

 


	10. Jack Be Nimble

The question on everyone's lips this week seems to be 'When is the wedding?'  
Chris and I generally give the same answer: we're waiting until my residency is finished. Right now I barely have time to talk to my husband and spend a few quality minutes with my daughter, never mind plan a wedding. The time is just passing far too quickly for my liking, and that has nothing to do with me needing more time to get everything done, I feel like Sadie's first nine months have flown by in a heartbeat. She's making definite, legible signs to us now, when she wants more or a bottle, when she's finished or tired, wants daddy or wants to go up. Every few days she comes out with a new one, although it might take us a little while to work out what she means since we're still learning, too. I am amazed every day by her determination and how quickly she works things out, watching her try to stack cups or get the spoon into her mouth is fascinating and yet not helping her is the hardest thing I've ever done. Chris is completely in his element, already talking about second, third, and fourth babies and utterly disinterested in going back to work. I couldn't be more proud of him or more in love with him than I am since he took on stay at home dad responsibilities, he's even started going to a local parents' group as the only dad surrounded by mums, he makes sure Sadie has all of her appointments, and spends so much time and concentration signing with her that it's nothing out of the ordinary for him to be still signing while talking to me long after bub has gone to sleep. Last week he was on the phone to his mother and I caught him absent-mindedly signing while she was on speaker., giving a new structure to his usual wild gesticulating.

Right now there's this look in his eye, he's watching me across the dinner table like he's about to broach something important. So help me if he suggests another baby this soon I'll beat him to death with this last piece of baked potato. He swallows and I wait, perfectly crunchy-yet-fluffy root vegetable at the ready.  
“I was looking at wedding venues today.”  
I stab at the potato and cut it to bite size, relieved that it isn't going to be wasted. “Yeah?” I say as calmly as possible.  
“We could get married in spring.”  
“This spring? That's only a few months away.”  
“I think it's doable, though. You'll be finished and able to have some time off.”  
I eye him warily. “Okay... what did you have in mind?”  
“No no no. I know better than to fall into that trap. You're the bride, what do _you_ want?”  
I think for a few moments. “Nothing too big or over the top. 200 people I guess? Definitely no more than 300. Somewhere with a view, there are some beautiful places in Sydney overlooking the harbour. I always imagined a horse drawn carriage delivering me onto a red carpet, the big white dress with a train just like Princess Diana's... not in a church, though, maybe somewhere like the town hall or Parliament house for the ceremony?” A laugh bubbles up and out of my mouth, I can't contain it any longer when I see Chris's eyes pop open and the colour drain from his face. “Relax, Boston. I'm joking. Something intimate and relaxed. As long as you and Sadie are there I don't care about the rest.”  
He blows out the breath he was holding. “I was just adding up flying 300 people to Australia for a huge lavish wedding and seeing the money I have put away for our house in Boston drying up rapidly. Don't do that to me!”  
“Sorry.” I chuckle, because I'm not really, it was totally worth it. “About that house in Boston, though. We never really agreed what we'd do after New York, just that we'd move.”  
“To Boston, yeah.”  
“What if we went somewhere else? Either temporarily or permanently. Like back to Sydney for a bit?”  
His face drops. “If that's what you want. You really miss it, huh?”  
“Sometimes. Visiting is great, but my family have barely met Sadie. They can't fly over here all the time. I sort of just assumed when I had children I'd raise them in Australia, with Australian culture and traditions.”  
He nods and smiles like I'm some sort of puzzle he's just solved. “This is about Thanksgiving.”  
It takes every ounce of will power not to roll my eyes. Last week we had a huge argument about travelling to Boston for Thanksgiving only to do it again a month later for Christmas. When I said I was on call and couldn't do both, Chris suggested he take Sadie to his mom's for a few days on his own, and then it got worse – he thought maybe he could take her for the entire month and leave me at home to finish up work. He backpedalled pretty fast and hasn't been game to bring it up since then.

Until now, apparently.

“Not at all, actually I think you and Sadie spending a few days with your mom is a great idea. You guys can celebrate Thanksgiving and I'll finish up my last two research papers. This is about my family and my veterinary practice being in Sydney.” I lower my voice to soften the blow because I've never said this out loud. “I want to go back.”  
“Okay, we can make this work. Are we talking six months? A year?” His eyes search my face and he swallows. “Indefinitely?”  
“I don't know. It's home, and I miss it. We've both had four hugely stressful years and... I want to go home.”

“And that was the end of it,” I tell Margot at my next counselling session. “It's been two weeks and we haven't talked about the wedding, or moving, or had sex since.”  
“What about Thanksgiving?”  
“He's leaving tomorrow, taking Sadie to Boston for a few days.”  
“How do you feel about that?”  
I shrug. “I couldn't go, so I think it's great. I love that he's so confident taking her away for a few days without me.”  
“What if he says he doesn't want to live in Australia? What will you do to resolve it? Are you prepared to compromise or is this a deal-breaker for you?”  
“I honestly don't know. I just want Sadie to know where she – well, I – came from. I love Chris, more than I know how to express, and I can't imagine life without him. Did I see myself marrying an American and living here with a house full of children? No, absolutely not. I know he's staying at home with Sadie so I can work, but... I came here for the residency, but I stayed for Chris. I made a home here with him, and a child. I'm feeling a little like I've trapped myself and the original plan to go back home when I was done has crumbled beneath my feet. I at least want the option back.”  
For a long time she just sits in silence, doodling on her notepad, looking out the window in between watching me before she finally speaks. “Amelia, you've been in therapy long enough to know this is about control, right? You and Chris both have anxiety and you both need that control over your situation. There is no easy solution, I guess you talk and compromise until you work out an arrangement you're both happy with.”  
I'm ashamed to admit it, but when Margot and I discuss any sort of tension I'm experiencing with Chris I always hope she'll just say I'm right and he's wrong, thereby making the solution as simple as him backing down. I don't know why I continue to think that, it never happens. She's right, I've been in therapy long enough to know better.

I've taken the rest of the day off to spend some time with Chris and Sadie before they leave tomorrow. She's barely getting around by crawling but she's discovered a more efficient way to move if there's furniture around – standing up and 'cruising' around on her feet while steadying herself on the couch, coffee table, or whatever she can get her hands on. Chris brings in two cups of coffee and sits opposite us on the floor, setting them both down in the centre of the coffee table, the only safe place now that Sadie can stand.  
“She might skip crawling altogether,” I say, watching her maneuver around to him.  
“We have to make sure she does it at least for a while, it's really important for their brain development.”  
“Oh. I didn't know that.”  
“Elise metioned it last week when I said she wasn't really crawling much.”  
Elise is still a bit of a sore spot between us. I know I shouldn't feel threatened but every time they're out at the park there are stories about them being a couple. She says she hates it as much as Chris does but there's a part of me that isn't convinced. There's another part that is a little jealous of them playing in the park while I'm at work, too. I contain the urge to roll my eyes and nod.

With her characteristic gummy smile and a breathy laugh, Sadie launches herself at Chris's open arms.  
_'Hello Sadie'_ he signs as she plonks in his lap and reaches for the necklace that peeks out from his t-shirt.  
I can't help but smile when he uses her sign name, gifted to her only a month ago. Elise arranged for us to meet with a group of deaf people to discuss the role of the deaf community and how Sadie will fit into that as she gets older. Initially I figured it was a little early since she can't do anything without us and I've heard they can be a little brusque with people who can hear but they were a lovely group of women our parents' age who fawned over Sadie for an hour or so while trying to decipher our stuttered signing without too much laughter. They all spoke really well which gave us a good idea of what she will be capable of, given most of them started out with the same level of hearing as Sadie – although they were forced to learn spoken language and not allowed to sign for a number of years. Thank goodness times have changed. Up until then when we wanted to say _'Sadie'_ we either just used an 'S' or we spelled it out, but as is the cultural tradition they gave her a sign name based on her character and background. When they first signed it to us I thought it was to do with her learning to clap in the days prior, but it is actually the sign for _'happy'_ in Auslan – Australian sign language. Although they didn't need to, it was explained that they chose it because she didn't stop smiling and laughing the entire time and they wanted to incorporate my Aussie background.

“Watch this, babe.” Chris gently taps her hand. _'Who that?'_ he signs, pointing to me.  
Sadie smiles at me and then back at Chris.  
“Aww come on, baby girl, don't let me down now.” He tries again, tapping her arm so she looks up at him. _'Who that?'_  
Sadie's chubby little hand comes up slowly, fingers spread like she's unsure. She looks to Chris for reassurance and he nods, putting his own hand up in the same position with his fingers spread and thumb extended against his chin. Sadie copies and moves her hand forward and back, and it takes me a few seconds to realise what she's doing.  
_'Mum.'_ She's signing _'mum.'_  
“Yeah!” Chris says, signing _'good.'_ He waits until she's watching him again to sign _'Who this?'_ and indicating himself.  
This time there's no hesitation, her hand raises so her thumb is on her forehead. _'Dad.'_  
“I can't believe it.” I can feel tears of pride prickle the back of my eyes. When she's looking at me I try another one. _'Who you?'_  
She claps her hands together, angled so one is atop the other just like we've been practising. Unable to wait any longer I dash over and scoop her up, tossing her giggling body into the air. “I'm so proud of you, bubba! She's talking, Chris. She's talking to us!”

Eventually she whines and wants to get down, immediately going after the nearest dog – Asha, Chris's Aussie Shepherd – and gripping her fur to pull herself up, laughing as the dog takes her for a slow and stumbling walk across the room.  
“You know, I had so many doubts about whether we were doing the right thing or all of this therapy was too intensive for her age. Seeing that look on your face when she signed ‘mom’, though... We’re doing the right thing.” He widens his legs so I can sit between them while we watch Sadie play.  
“I don’t tell you often enough, I am so proud of you. You are an awesome father, Chris, not just because you’re with her every day but the extra time you spend with her and implementing Elise’s suggestions. You’re the best dad and husband we could have asked for, we’re lucky girls.”  
“I’m the lucky one,” he says with a sniff. “I think it’s time we told the world, hm?”  
“Yeah, maybe it will stop the ‘Chris Evans is fucking the nanny’ stories.”  
He laughs, and I open my mouth to keep talking but he’s already off toward Sadie with his phone, snapping pictures of her for Instagram. It only takes a few seconds for her to think it’s a great game of ‘look away from daddy’ and I have to hold her to get the photo, realising as I do that we’re usually trying to downplay the hearing aids, but today Chris makes a point of getting them clearly in focus.

When I step out of the shower that night I can see Chris is already in bed, his head propped up on every available pillow and glasses on, his fingers toying with the top corner of his book. Mostly hidden from view I watch him in the mirror, admiring his almost naked form even as I cringe at my own while towelling off. This body is certainly not what it used to be. I carried on breastfeeding until Sadie had just passed seven months, but pumping at work was becoming more difficult and when she became ravenously hungry during a growth spurt I couldn’t keep up. During that week we used up the supply we’d frozen and gradually moved to formula, the one breastfeed she still has before bed isn’t enough to keep my boobs round and full like they were, to me they look deflated and saggy. My caesarian scar is still red and angry, bisecting my lower abdomen like a constant, itchy reminder, and the stretch marks I’d hoped would fade have instead settled into wrinkles on my pouch-like stomach.

The eyes staring back at me while I smooth moisturiser onto my face don’t even look like mine any more, the dark bags giving away too many late nights and early mornings without enough rest. I must have groaned a little louder than I intended because Chris looks up and I find his reflection gazing back at me with a smile.  
“Are you coming to bed some time tonight?”  
I pull his t-shirt over my head and switch off the light before sliding in beside him. “What’re you reading?”  
“Elise loaned it to me, it’s for parents of deaf children.” He must feel me stiffen. “Loaned it to us, I mean.”  
_You know you’re a parent when ‘Let it Go’ has replaced the little affirmations you used to remind yourself not to hold on to insignificant stuff._  
“So about the wedding...”  
Chris closes the book and gives me his full attention. “If you’re not ready it’s okay, we probably need to spend some time working out what we both want.”  
“That’s the thing. I want to be with you and Sadie, I don’t care if we split our time between here and Australia or we just visit one or the other a couple of times a year. It just felt like an assumption that we’d stay here permanently and I dug my heels in, we can work it out as we go.”  
“You sure?”  
“Yes.”  
“Okay, then. So the wedding... how much do you trust me?”  
“With my life.”  
“Yes, but with your dream wedding?”  
“I was joking about all of that stuff, Chris. I don’t want that many people and I honestly don’t care where it is. I’d be happy if I could just get a dress and make myself look pretty, turn up and it’s all organised for me.”  
“Good, because I want to surprise you. I’ll make sure all of the important people are there, you can check the guest list, but the rest of the details are a surprise. Deal?”  
“Uhhh....” think for a minute. “Yeah, okay.”  
He’s already up to something, he’s way too excited.

Chris scoots down and nudges me gently onto my back, sliding the hem of my shirt up while he kisses me deeply. As his warm lips track down my neck I reach out with my fingers, needing just an extra inch to turn the bedside light off, but he threads his fingers into mine and holds it above my head. I comb my fingers through his hair as he finds my nipple through the cotton, wetting and cooling it as it soaks with his licking and sucking. When he tries to lift it further I stiffen and reach for the light switch again.  
“Can you turn off the light?”  
“But babe, you know how I love to watch you come... I’m going down on you and I want to see what I’m doing. I need to watch the juices spill out of your tight little cunt and watch it spasm and squeeze them out.” As he speaks the tips of his fingers rub lightly up and down my lips, ghosting over my clit until I bite my lip.  
I ease the shirt back down to cover my torso and he stops, leaning back to frown down at me. “What’s going on with you?”  
“Nothing.”  
He tries to lift the hem again but I have a hand on it and instead he raises an eyebrow at me. “Talk to me, Amelia.”  
“Can’t you just turn the light off and fuck me?”  
“No.” He chuckles. “Are you trying to hide something from me? Are you worried about your body being different?”  
“I’m not comfortable in it, that’s all. It _is_ different, it’s not the body you fell in love with.”  
He sighs, his hand still gently cupping my mound. “If I turn off the light can I get you naked and eat your pussy?”  
“Absolutely.” I giggle as he flicks the switch.

I sit up to toss the shirt onto the floor and he stalks back toward me on hands and knees, his mouth going straight for my breast and sucking a nipple into his mouth. He circles it with his tongue and then sucks it into the roof of his mouth, suckling until I moan and hear him swallowing. When I look down and run my hands over his shoulders his blue eyes are lit up with mischief and I can feel he's getting mouthfuls of milk from my breast, which tugs at something deep within me – not just a long-buried kink, but something more intimate and spiritual about him literally feeding and being nourished by me – and my body is on fire.  
“Chris... oh, god,” I whimper, rubbing my thighs together. The sudden sensation of overwhelm is accompanied by my juices spilling out with such force that they glide easily against each other, my legs and the bed beneath me are warm and wet with it.  
Chris moves to the other side and at the first pull of let-down I'm overcome with need, taking his hand between my legs and pushing his fingers inside easily. His breath catches but he continues drinking eagerly while I use his fingers, my hips rolling back and forth as I find that delicious spot and keep rubbing against it. Nothing exists but need, I want his thick cock inside me but I can't bear to be without his fingers, my pelvis is bucking up and down on his hand without any care for the wet squelches or deep, guttural grunts that rise from my throat. My fingernails tear the skin over his shoulder blade as I flood his hand and feel the cool stickiness soak the bed, my core letting go like an overstretched rubber band and making me shake and cry as his touch becomes too much.

I collapse, seizing in the fetal position in a puddle of my own making while Chris, having released my tit, strokes gently up and down my spine. He lies down beside me and takes me in his arms, his erection pressing against me until I randomly convulse again.  
“Babe, that was... wait, don't move.. ah, fucking shit.”  
He tries to pull back but it's too late, instead he holds me against him and I feel him twitch and spill between us, coating both of our stomachs in slippery hot cum. I try really hard not to laugh, but the best I can do is muffle it against his chest.  
“I'm sorry,” I say between wheezing laughs, tears streaming down my cheeks.  
“First time for everything,” Chris says sheepishly. “You're lucky I'm not self-conscious, you'd be ruining me about now.”  
I want to stop, it's really not that funny, but I can't. And then he starts tickling me and makes it worse, we both end up covered in bodily fluids from top to toe and in desperate need of a shower.  
“Is it still funny, Doc?”  
“No,” I say solemnly, putting on my best straight face and shaking my head slowly. “Absolutely not.”  
As I stand up and lead the way back to the bathroom he slaps my arse, far harder than he ever has before, so that I'm sure there will be a mark for at least a couple of days while he's gone. I squeal so loud that if Sadie had her hearing aids in I'd probably wake her, and when I look back at him he has that same mischievous grin.  
“You're a shit liar, Amelia.”

  


 


	11. Knick Knack, Paddywhack

## Chris

“Ma, on a scale of one to long term celibacy, how much is she gonna hate me for this?”  
“C'mon, Amelia is amazing. She'll love it because it's you. And if she doesn't, she should know better than to let you plan the entire wedding,” Scott pipes up.  
“Your brother has a point. She probably won't expect any less than this.”  
“She didn't want a big fuss, though...” I lean over the brochures and quotes spread across the entire dining table, wondering if this wedding is going to be the best day of our lives, or perhaps my last. “Screw it.” I pick up my phone and dial the number for the wedding coordinator. If Amelia's gonna kill me, we might as well have a nice party first.

I love Thanksgiving. Christmas has changed a little for us now that the Carly and Shanna have their own children and other families to visit but Thanksgiving won't ever be different – we're always together. I wish Amelia could be here but at the same time I understand the choice she had to make, and not being American she's told me before she feels a little fraudulent making a big deal of it. She sounded a little lonely when we spoke on the phone last night, she's missing Sadie pretty badly and was working late at the hospital rather than go home to an empty apartment.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Even though it's super early in the morning I can hear the hive of activity down in the kitchen, but I roll over and watch Sadie sleep a bit longer. She's adapted to new surroundings so easily and loves being able to play outside or hang out with grandma in the kitchen. Mom has been learning to sign for a few months now and it warms my heart to watch them together, the way Sadie's face lights up when they're laughing together.

When Sadie stirs I watch her wake up, opening her eyes and looking around at my childhood bedroom from the same crib Carly's children slept in when they stayed over here. It's surreal to remember not so long ago I'd be home for family gatherings playing with everyone else's kids and so desperate to have my own, it still doesn't feel real to actually be a dad and have my own daughter.   
“Ah-mah,” she says as she sits up, attempting the sign at the same time.   
There's something so heartwarming in just watching her sometimes without interacting. I'm sure she knows I'm right here, she would only have to turn her head a few degrees to see me, but right now she's content with trying to pull herself up to standing, talking to her stuffed animals, and sing-songing 'Ah-mah' over and over. We spend so much time engaging with her and actively teaching her new words and signs, attempting to push her language development just a little ahead so she doesn't fall behind, and then just non stop talking to her all day, I appreciate little quiet times like this so much more because of it.

I quietly turn over and unlock my phone, finding a text message from Amelia.   
[Hope you both slept well, miss you lots. I love you, give Sadie a kiss for me and I hope you all have a beautiful day xxx]  
Sadie is already looking at me when I turn the camera on her to send Amelia a photo, standing up and holding on to the top railing.   
“Smile, baby girl.”  
“Da!” she yells. The first one is accompanied by a wide grin that shows off her one and only tooth but by the time I've sent the message and put my pants on she's become more insistent.   
“All right, okay, let's go see what's happening, hm? We gotta change that diaper first, though, because my my little lady, you stink.”  
This shit is epic. Apparently it's because she's eating new foods she isn't used to – it's Thanksgiving, who am I to deny my princess all the good stuff? – but it can't possibly be normal for this big a smell to come from such a tiny human. I wonder for a moment if there's any chance mom keeps a gas mask in the house and then decide to just go for it, laying out a large stack of wipes and two scented bags that I hope will go some of the way to dampening the stench.

I don't know who I'm kidding, we could lock this thing in a lead box and drop it to the bottom of the ocean but it would still find a way to release its eye-watering odour. At first Sadie scrunches her nose in agreement with my attempts to hold my breath and remain unaffected, but that doesn't last long for either of us. Apparently my gagging is absolutely the funniest thing since Dodger tickling her nose with his tail, so I'm gonna go ahead and pretend I let my stomach continue retching and trying to spill its contents purely for her entertainment while I try to find a clean diaper and a change of clothes. She giggles some more before falling quiet, and then there's the most awful thud before she starts screaming from the floor.

It's funny how your brain gets a bit muddled under pressure – my first thought is that Amelia will kill me. I know better than to leave a crawling baby unattended for more than two hundredths of a second on the bed. Of course while this is running through my mind I am picking her up off the floor and checking her over for any sign of injury.  
“Oh, honey. What happened?”  
I don't know when mom entered the room, somewhere between Amelia will kill me and please don't be concussed, I guess.   
“She just crawled right off the bed,” I groan. “Crying is good, right? It's when they don't cry that you have to worry about brain damage?”  
“Relax, Chris,” mom says, taking her from my arms. “She's just scared herself.”  
“She's not the only one,” I mumble, laying her clothes and diaper on the bed to get her dressed. This time I keep one hand on her, which is much easier with four between us because she immediately tries to roll over and make a repeat performance. We sing the clean diaper song and then the ‘fit the squirming octopus into the jumpsuit’ song, and by the time mom takes her downstairs so I can shower she's laughing and saying 'Ah-mah' all over again, while I feel like I need a good cry.

The scene I come down to a while later is absolute chaos. Mom, Carly, Shanna, and Scott are crowded around the island in the kitchen, deeply involved in some sort of spirited discussion. I can’t make out what the topic is, or even whether they’re arguing or agreeing, it’s just a cacophony of excited voices competing for the most decibels while hands fly in wild gestures. By comparison the children are sitting so still they might be in church, threatened with no sweets if they make so much as a shuffle or peep. Upon further investigation I find they’re just utterly engrossed in their eggy toast, even Sadie is sitting up in her high chair looking rather proud to be at the table with the other kids as she sucks on a finger of toast.

This, right here, is what it’s all about. The gaggle of noise, the aroma of breakfast and coffee, the fire crackling away in the living room, and the threat of early snow outside the window.   
“Don’t cry, big boy,” Shanna says with a grin, alerting me to the fact that I was totally zoned out and the whole room has fallen silent.   
“Shuddup, you. What’s happening?”  
“Important debate about apple sauce,” Scott says, somehow keeping a straight face. “Ended with a stalemate.”  
“Ah, like every other year. So it stays?”  
“It stays,” mom says smugly. “What can I get you to eat?”  
“Relax, I’ll get it.” I pour myself a coffee to start.   
“He’s all grown up now, mama,” Carly says, hugging me from behind. “Stay at home daddy, doing all the housework and keeping a baby happy. That’s actually no easy task, I really am proud of you.” She switches from mocking to sincere so fast my head spins. “Sadie is picking things up so fast, and all the extra activities you do with her are amazing. Amelia and you should take a weekend over Christmas and have some time off, we’d love to have her for a sleepover.”

You’d think that would make me excited, but my brain jumps immediately to the hearing aids and Carly having to clean them and make sure they’re fitted and working properly, being confident with all of the signs that we’re already using because she can’t go a whole weekend without them...  
“Whatever she needs, we can handle it,” she whispers. I sometimes forget how well they know me.  
“I know you can.” I smile. “We might even take you up on it.”  
For the rest of the morning I do my best to step back a little and let the kids play with Sadie, let her explore as much as I can, and give everyone else a chance to spend time with her. The boys have picked up a few signs and are doing their best to use them, happily allowing their toys to be chewed and dribbled on and their shoulders to be used for balance.

I’m already mixing up a bottle of formula for her when she starts to whine and rub her eyes, finding me in the kitchen and tugging on my jeans until I lift her up. There’s a sitting room right at the front of the house that’s away from the kitchen noise so I take her there for some quiet to drink her bottle, talking to her softly as she gulps it down and fists her other hand in my shirt.

This is one of my favourite times of the day, I always try to make sure we’re at home for one of her naps so we get this little sliver of time to wind down together. Watching Sadie switch from play and giggles to relaxed in my arms as she sucks away at her milk makes me feel immediately calm and I truly cherish every second of it. Gripping my shirt is something she’s done since I can remember, and on the rare occasion I’m not wearing one she’ll grab a tiny handful of chest hair instead, opening and closing her hand in a comforting gesture. Sometimes when I’m looking down at her she’ll break into a wide smile – usually spilling milk everywhere – and for those couple of seconds I feel like the most important man in the world. No award, nothing else I’ve done in my life, has made me feel that way.

Once her bottle is empty she stands up on my lap – putting her down for a rest isn't nearly as easy here as it is at home, even in a quiet room – and lays her head in the curve of my neck to look out the window.   
“C'mon, darlin', time to lay down.”  
“Mamama.”  
“You miss mommy, huh? Me too.”  
She starts bouncing on my leg. “Ma! Ma!”  
“Sadie, it's nap time,” I say firmly.  
She rubs her eyes and starts to cry when I stand up, turning her away from whatever is so exciting outside. I cuddle her against me and start rubbing her back and singing just as mom passes the doorway and opens the front door, causing enough excited commotion that I move into the corner in the hopes of getting little miss to sleep more easily. While I'm humming and rocking, feeling her head grow heavy on my shoulder and her arms fall limp, I hear footsteps behind me and assume it's mom until she speaks.   
“How are my two favourite people?” she whispers, so close to my ear I get goosebumps.   
Sadie has just closed her eyes so I have to contain my excitement. “Better now that you're here, babe.”  
“Do you want me to take her?”  
I shake my head. “She's ready to go down.”

Amelia follows me upstairs while I put Sadie down in the cot and then wraps her arms around my neck, standing on her toes to meet my lips with a long kiss.  
“I missed you,” she says without opening her eyes.  
“I guessed.” I laugh. “We missed you, too. What changed your mind?”  
“This holiday means so much to you, and I've been way too self absorbed recently. I realised I should be here with you even if it's only for one day. I have to drive back tonight.”  
I hold her tight and bury my face in her neck until she giggles. “Thank you. You didn't have to, but I'm really happy you're here. Sadie must have seen you, she kept saying 'mum' when she was looking out the window.”  
“Has she been good?”  
I nod. “I can't wait for you to see her play with her cousins, it's adorable. She likes to think she's one of them, I think.”

I chuckle as she looks around the room. “Remember the first time we stayed here?”  
“How could I possibly forget.” She rolls her eyes.   
We'd been here in summer, the first time I'd been able to get everyone together since Amelia moved in with me in New York, and I brought her up here to show her my old bedroom. I was so in love with her that day, she'd just slotted in to my family like she was born to be one of us, and she had this tiny summer dress on, her hair all tiny curls around her face that glistened with sweat, a beer in her hand...   
There was no thought or discussion – one minute I was showing her a trophy and the next my pants were around my ankles and I was pushing her panties to one side, standing at the end of the bed and pushing my cock into her heat. Fuck, she felt so good and she looked so beautiful I'm hard now just thinking about it.   
In classic baby sister style, Shanna caught us mid-fuck and poor Amelia was so mortified I was sure she'd call time on the whole thing, but instead she got on her knees and finished me off with that gorgeous mouth...

“Chris!”  
Shit. “Huh? Sorry.”  
“Stop reminiscing about sex while your daughter is right there!” she hisses, leading me out of the room and down the stairs.   
“But it was such good sex, babe,” I whine on the way down.   
Amelia laughs over her shoulder. “Maybe we can top it later on.”  
“Really?!” I stop and lean on the wall. “You're killing me, Doc.”

Lunch is the usual over-indulgence with plenty of wine and more food than we could possibly eat in one sitting. Listening to everyone talk about what they're grateful for I'm overwhelmed with happiness, my fiancee by my side and my fingers laced into hers an appropriate distance up her thigh. I lean over and kiss a speck of cranberry from the corner of her mouth.   
“Life is good,” I whisper, basking in her bright smile.  
“It is. I'm really glad I came.”   
I look up and realise they're all staring at us and I'm pretty sure mom has puffy hearts busting out of her eye sockets. “My turn, huh?”  
They all nod in unison.  
“Well Sadie, obviously. But also, being able to spend time with her and support Amelia. We're so lucky to be able to do that. And of course, marrying this gorgeous woman, and having our first Thanksgiving together.”  
Amelia squeezes my hand under the table while Shanna makes a muffled gagging noise beside me.  
“Your turn, Amelia,” mom says.  
She draws a long breath and her grip on me tightens a little. “This year has been so overwhelming, but it was so rewarding. Without Chris I would have just given up my residency, he is the reason I'm going to achieve my dream. You guys know what a wonderful man he is and I could not have asked for a better father for Sadie or a better fiancee. And Scott has been a huge help to both of us. I guess I'm grateful for new family.” She looks across to me and swallows. “While I have the floor, I know Chris has always wanted to settle here and it seems like the perfect place to me. I suppose we'll be looking for a house in Boston next year.”  
I can feel it in my throat, as soon as I speak the bubble is going to burst and the tears will start. I can't not say anything, though.  
“I love you, Amelia,” is all I get out before I'm swiping roughly at my eyes.  
“Someone get Chris a tissue for the waterworks,” Carly says, bouncing in her seat. “I can't wait for you guys to be closer!”  
“Definitely the right decision,” Amelia says, sipping her wine.  
Right on cue I hear Sadie through the baby monitor, giving me the perfect chance to escape and collect myself.

Amelia catches up to me on the stairs. “Can I get Sadie, I want to surprise her.”  
“Of course you can!” I laugh. “She's your daughter. I just needed a moment.” In the hall outside the bedroom I pull her into my arms. “I love you so much, babe. You'll love it here, the dogs will have space and the kids will have room to play. We'll get a nice big house with plenty of bedrooms, there'll be room for your parents to come over and stay if you want.”  
Sometimes I just open my mouth and the crazy spills over like an overfull dam. Amelia is smiling but she's tilted her head like a confused beagle, I don't know if that's a good thing.  
“You've been planning this for a while, huh?”  
“Maybe. Yes.”  
“You're so cute when you talk domestics.”  
“Thanks, I think.”

Sadie sits up at the table with the other kids for the remaining time and does her best with one tooth on a little piece of turkey and some vegetables. Dessert is quickly forgotten as a few lonely snowflakes fall outside the window, though, so we rug her up and dash outside with the others before it stops. It's so light the tiny white specks are disappearing before they hit the ground but she's wide-eyed and fascinated by each one that makes it onto her skin or coat nonetheless. It's only a few minutes before it stops and Scott swoops in to take Sadie with a short but not at all subtle gesture about Amelia and me having some time alone.

He doesn't have to offer twice, we're back in my old room before you can say 'uncles are the best', and I'm pulling her down on top of me.  
“I fucking love you, Chris Evans,” she says before kissing me thoroughly, her hands already skimming under my sweater.  
She moans as I find her breast, kneading it gently through her bra while she arches her back and pushes it into my hand. Her lips trail down my neck and I unfasten her jeans, pushing them down to reveal a lacy thong that makes me chuckle.  
“Haven't seen this in a while.” I hook my finger in the side and let it snap back against her hip. “I didn't think you had any.”  
“I still do, I just don't show them off as much.”  
“You should, that is so sexy.”   
She sits up and pushes my pants down to my ankles. “I'll keep that in mind.”  
“For me, I mean. Don't go showing that gorgeous ass to anyone else.”  
Amelia laughs and lays back, hanging her open legs over the edge of the bed so I can stand between them. I slide her thong out of the way and rub back and forth between her lips and into her juices, watching her face flush and her eyes darken.   
“I want your cock, baby.”  
I could tease her, make her beg for it, get her off with my fingers or mouth first, but really I just want the same thing – to be inside and make love to her right now. She's tight and warm as always, wet enough that I know she's thought about this since she arrived just as much as I have. As I start to thrust I lean over and cover her moans with my mouth, kissing her deeply in time with my slow movements. Her fingertips flutter on my shaft as she rubs gently at her clit, and as usual once I feel that I know I won't last long. The bed creaks with every stroke, occasionally making a giggle escape from one of us, until I have to cover her mouth with my hand to muffle her cries and she erupts into spasms beneath me, bucking her hips up to meet me until I can't contain my own orgasm any longer and I come with a series of expletives into her neck.

“We should get back to Sadie,” she says after a minute.   
I shrug and lie down beside her. “They'll come get us if they need to.”  
And so for half an hour we lie there half undressed and just... _be._ We don't even need to talk, it's a rare opportunity to have Amelia's head on my chest, feel her eyelashes tickle my skin when she blinks, and temporarily suspend the mom and dad roles to enjoy the closeness. As much as I dearly love being a father – words can't even describe it, another highlight of my day is when she wakes up from a nap and I get to see that first smile when she sees me, feel her little arms around my neck for the first cuddle – but it's so easy to forget to be a man and a partner as well. Sometimes all we find to talk about is Sadie, we can't even remember how we used to fill hours on the phone with interesting conversation before she was born.

The wan sunlight casts fuzzy shadows over us as it descends slowly toward night, my fingers ghosting up and down Amelia's arm and my cheek resting on her vanilla-scented hair. Our bare legs are still entwined, the curve of her hip rising beside mine and disappearing into the valley of her waist. She shifts a little beside me and tugs her sweater down between us so her scar is covered, making me sigh at the loss of skin contact.   
“Can I tell you something?” I press a kiss to her forehead.  
“Mm hm,” she murmurs, nuzzling closer toward my neck.   
“I think about you all the time, like I still fantasise about you. Just last night I was missing you, wishing you were next to me and imagining what we might be doing if you were in bed with me. Now I know you're a bit self-conscious since having Sadie, but the image I have of you in my head isn't how you were before, it's how you are now. When I dream of kissing my way down your body, your tits are a little heavier, your belly button has that cute thing going on where it's half in and half out, you have an extra curve or two around your hips that are perfect for holding on to while I eat you out. And the scar just reminds me how brave you were, being cut open while you were awake so they could get our girl out safely. Babe, there is not one thing I would change about your body now, except that I wish you loved and appreciated it like I do. Not one thing. When you said 'it's not the body I fell in love with' you were right – that body didn't have memories. I didn't know how beautiful it would be as it grew with our baby inside, or that I'd have the privilege of actually drinking from your breast, or that even after two hours of broken sleep it would have more stamina than I can dream of and still be able to perform complex surgery on a tiny animal without so much as a tremor. So no, I don't love it as much as before, I love it more. I love _you_ more and I still can't figure out how it's possible.”  
She's silent for a long time, her delicate fingers tapping feather-light on my chest before she finally leans her head back and kisses me slowly until my lips are numb. “I can't wait to be your wife, I love you so much.”  
“I can't wait for you to be Mrs... well, Doctor Evans... wait, are you gonna change your name? You don't have to, I know a lot of women don't, so – ”  
She silences me with a finger on my lips. “Yes, I'm changing my name. I'll be Doctor Amelia Evans.”  
“Mm. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?”  
She nods. “It sounds like a fairy tale.”  
 _Oh, Doc. You have no idea._

 


	12. Ladybird

## Amelia

Was driving all the way to Boston for the day a little extreme?  
Probably.  
Was it worth it to see the look on Chris' face when I said we'll be moving there permanently, to spend Thanksgiving with him and his family, to see Sadie's face light up when she saw me after a few days?  
Absolutely.

The decision to spend the night and get back on the road at 5am seemed like a good one at the time, and I slept better in his arms than I ever would have at home, but now that I'm beginning the long drive back to work – with the coffee Chris made before I left in a travel cup, god bless him – I can't stop the tears. Sadie will wake up and wonder where mummy went, and I'm not going to see them again until tomorrow, and I never thought I'd believe this but I really do want to take some time off and just be a mum for a while.   
“Five more weeks,” I remind myself aloud.   
I flick through five or six radio stations before I find one that doesn't make me want to blubber like a child, why do they play all of the soppy crap at this time of the morning?

The morning is yawn after yawn, only broken up by the odd mouthful of the strongest coffee I can get my hands on and the danish that Liam pushes in front of me.   
“Why Doctor Stevenson, you shouldn't have.”  
“It comes with a request,” he says with a smile. “We want you to stay on after your residency as an oncology consultant.”  
I pause a moment, waiting for the conflicted feelings to squeeze my stomach, but they don't come.  
“I may not be able to accept the danish, then. Chris and I will be relocating to Boston next year.”  
He laughs. “No, you keep it. That is a shame, we were looking forward to having you on staff. Is there any incentive I could offer that might change your mind?”  
“Unfortunately not. I really appreciate it, though. Not so long ago I'd have jumped at the chance.”  
“The Amelia that arrived would have done anything for that position, amazing how things change when children are in the picture,” he says with a warm smile. “I do know a practice or two in Boston, I'll be sure to let them know.”  
“Thank you, Liam.”  
“There is one other thing, you have a bit of leave remaining and your coursework is done except for that last research paper, which I understand you only need to proofread and submit... I see no reason why you can't finish up before Christmas.”  
“Wow, really?”  
“Absolutely. You've worked harder than anyone I know, even with the little bit of time you took to have Sadie. You've earned an early mark.”

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

“A little different to last year, huh?” Chris says, squeezing my hand.  
We're walking hand in hand toward Macy's, three days before Christmas, rugged up like giant marshmallows – and I still can't feel my fingers or toes – in our best winter gear. Chris's coat is open at the front because Sadie is riding in her baby carrier, her tummy safely tucked against daddy while she looks around in awe at the coloured lights and people passing us. Her fluffy ear muffs and hat have stayed on for a whole six minutes now so I'm calling that a win, the tiniest snow boots we could find adorn her feet, and I don't think she's stopped smiling since we left home. A puff of condensed breath forms in front of my face as I shake my head and smile, remembering the pressure I was under last year and the Christmas spirit I completely missed out on.  
“Just a little.”  
When we stop at Macy's windows the occasional second glance we've been getting turns into full nudges, points, and whispers from various other shoppers. Chris apologetically turns down a few requests for photos but happily chats and shakes hands with a number of people while we're checking out the beautiful displays. I'll admit the first time he brought me here I was too grumpy to enjoy them – I was tired from work, he'd flown in for a quick two day visit and I'd planned on much warmer activities than wandering the ridiculously cold streets. He never let my grumbling ruin it for him, though. I think Christmas Chris is utterly impenetrable.

This year is like nothing we've done before. We have time. Time to spend on each other, on Sadie, on shopping together and going out in this bullshit New Yorkers call winter to look at window displays, and it's better than I could have imagined. He's even friendly with the photographers that seem to slither from dark corners, insisting they can have their shots of the two of us if they leave us alone after that, which they kindly do once Sadie starts getting upset with the endless bright flashes.   
Dear North Pole, if Santa ever becomes jaded, I've got your man right here.

We spend almost an hour admiring the displays, the movement and music, the general joy of it all, before heading home a little warmer and lighter than we came. On the way he buys me a hot chocolate to warm me up and Sadie falls asleep with her head tucked soundly against his chest while he holds a protective gloved hand over her back, rubbing gently up and down whenever she stirs. That night after she's gone to bed we wrap presents together beneath the lights of the tree – another first – with carols playing softly in the background.

“How's the wedding planning going?” I ask later when we're lying in bed.   
“Great, everything is under control.”  
“Chris, I'm gonna need a dress at some point and I don't think you can choose it for me.”  
“Ye of little faith.”  
“That's kind of frightening. Please can I at least choose the dress?”  
“Of course, I just meant it's under control. Don't worry about it.”  
I don't know why I'm not at all phased by having no idea what's been planned, but for some reason I feel quite calm about it all. That is, until later that night when I have a nightmare about missing the entire thing because he neglected to tell me the date, emerging from the bedroom in my underwear to find an angry mob of his family – complete with pitchforks and burning torches – ready to burn me at the stake for standing him up.

I sit up with a gasp, the smell of my burning flesh still fresh in my nostrils... and realise the smoke alarm is going off in the kitchen. As I'm frantically searching for some pants I hear Sadie squeal and then Chris cursing, before it stops completely and they both laugh.  
“Sorry, baby girl. Daddy's just burnin' the bacon again.”  
“That's one hell of a way to wake up.” I lean against the end of the bench, feeling a little bit like I left my consciousness on the pillow and it's just my uninhabited body flopping around.  
“Sorry mommy.” Chris pours me a coffee and hands it to me with a kiss on my cheek. “I know you need to finish wrapping and packing but we need to go out this morning.”  
“Chris...” I whine, throwing in a little foot stamping for good measure as I gesture to the window.  
“I know, I know, it's bullshit cold. We're going somewhere warm, and I promise it will be worth the effort. Trust me?”  
“Not really,” I grumble, my lips curling into a half smile.

Chris is being so secretive he looks like he might explode – I'm starting to enjoy this and his excitement is kind of contagious. We're walking down the street with Sadie in the pram when he stops abruptly.  
“This is your stop,” he says, gesturing to the store behind us.   
“Hold on a minute, I can't...” I'm looking at the wedding gowns in the window when the door creaks open and I'm greeted by a beaming Ilaria Urbinati.  
Chris kisses my lips quickly. “See you soon, babe.” He's a few steps away before I can protest.  
“Come in, would you. It's fucking freezing out here!”  
“Honey, it's really great to see you,” I say as she's ushering me inside and locking the door, “but I can't do this today.”  
“Mm hm. Why not?”  
“Because I... I want to loose a few pounds and firm up first, and... and...”  
“Amelia, you are perfect the way you are, and we're already pushing it to get a dress in time. We can't afford to wait.”  
“But my mum...”  
“Oh, sweetie. I didn't even think... this is something you really wanted to do with your mum's help, huh?”  
“Yeah.” I swallow, trying to force back tears of panic. I'm not ready for this, I didn't even wash my hair or put makeup on this morning, and since Thanksgiving I've eaten way too many sweets, and now I've stopped breastfeeding Sadie I think I've put on a couple of kilos just looking at a pizza.  
“Ilaria didn't think of that, but you have this wonderfully thoughtful future husband who did,” a familiar voice says from between the racks of dresses. And just like that, my mum and Jenna – my brother's fiancee – step out and wrap me in a hug that makes me forget about the chill outside.   
“Oh my god! When did he... I thought he organised this last night!”  
“He's had this organised for months, sweetheart,” mum says.

“So the brief I got from Chris was you have to feel like a comfortable princess,” Ilaria says with a chuckle. “And you don't want white.”  
“Wow, he really does listen to me.”  
“Get in the change room and get your clothes off, then. We have a rack to get through and we're not stopping until we find the one.”  
An hour later I'm feeling disheartened as I look at the beautiful gowns piling up on the 'no' side, the rack I'm yet to try growing less promising with every minute.   
“Hey,” Ilaria says. “I have to tell you something Chris asked me very specifically. He didn't want you to starve yourself for the wedding to fit in to a dress. Under no circumstances are you to get a dress that you 'will' fit in to, he wants it to fit perfectly just as you are now, and will be at the wedding. Now, I think the ones you've disliked have been too fussy, maybe we want the same cut but without so much frill and bling?”  
“Yeah,” I say, rubbing at my nose.   
“We'll find the right one, Amelia. I promise.”

Two more dresses – one that barely covered my nipples and one that made me look like the cake rather than the bride – and a glass of champagne later, she buttons me into an ivory lace and tulle sleeveless gown with a sweetheart neckline, and before I've even taken in the embroidered detail around the hem or the tiny scattered crystals I just know it's 'the dress'. Ilaria knows it, too. So do mum and Jenna, they both stand from their chairs when I walk out and the tiredness immediately disappears from their faces as they smile.   
“Oh, Amelia,” mum gushes. “Do you love it?”  
I nod. It's all I can manage, staring at myself in the huge mirror on the wall. I hate being so down and negative about my own body because I used to love it and I'm trying really hard to do so again, but for the first time in months I feel beautiful. Like a princess.

As it turns out, mum and dad have planned to stay until the wedding, and I couldn't be happier to see them. There's no rush to spend every second with them and they'll have some time to spend with Sadie before they have to go, and even better they aren't staying with us but in their own apartment, so I don't feel like we'll be living in their pocket.   
“Found one?” Chris asks when we arrive at home, a smug grin on his face as he hands my dad and Jonathan a beer.   
“Thank you.” I sniffle into his neck, my arms wrapped tight around it as I press my whole body against him. “Thank you. Thank you. You're the most amazing husband anyone could ask for.”

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

The following day we make the Christmas Eve trek back to Boston, with mum, dad, Jonathan, and Jenna following along in their rental car.   
“You're sure Lisa doesn't mind an extra four people?” I ask after watching Sadie doze off in her car seat.   
“Babe, we planned this ages ago.”  
“Okay, but you said they're staying with us as well and I don't understand how.”  
“Well I wanted this to be a surprise when we got there but since you won't relax... we rented a house. Big enough for us and your family.”  
“Oh.”  
“Could you stop worrying now?” He reaches over and squeezes my thigh with his huge hand. “Between me and everyone else we've thought of everything. I promise. I wanted Sadie's first Christmas to be memorable and I want you to just enjoy it, you haven't been able to do that since you came over.”

I smile at our joined hands as the car roars along the road, throwing up a light spray of water from earlier rain.   
“Chris?”  
“Mm?” He glances over at me and then returns his eyes to the road ahead.  
“I think I've forgotten how to just enjoy the moment. Can you show me?”  
“It would be my pleasure, Doc.”

It's well into the wee morning hours by the time we're tucked up in bed that night. Catching up with my family has been incredible – talking on the phone or Skype just isn't the same as spending a good chunk of time together, there are always little events and tidbits that are worth telling but not worth calling back for when you remember later. Sadie was in bed only a little late – because although I think she's too young Chris insisted on putting out a plate of milk and cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer, and I challenge anyone to deny him when he has _that_ look – and should sleep through until sunrise at least. She's tucked in toasty warm and there's a fluffy Christmas teddy bear waiting at the end of her cot, her little Santa sack filled and ready beside the tree.

Jenna and I did a little exploring this afternoon and the house we're staying in is just stunning, with five bedrooms and five bathrooms and just so much space I can hardly take it all in. My house back in Sydney was fairly modest, and then there's our apartment which is spacious by Manhattan standards but still leaves me wanting with the limited kitchen and lack of fresh air, I can actually see us raising a family in this house. Actually, with five bedrooms I can see us raising a number of families, if anything it's probably too large and I'd feel lonely in it when Chris was away. I could have drooled in the kitchen, though, and it's big enough for entertaining – more than that it's so large it made me _want_ to throw a dinner party!

While I'm just the right combination of tipsy and completely exhausted, Chris seems to have happy feet as soon as we get in to bed. He tosses and turns for about an hour before I begin considering finding an empty bed.  
“What's going on with you?” I ask, trying to keep my rising grumpiness in check.  
“I just can't wait to see her face in the morning. She's signing Merry Christmas, did you see?”  
“Yes, babe. I'm really glad you're so excited but you need to sleep.”  
“I'm trying,” he whines.   
“Christopher.” I giggle. “Santa won't come until you're asleep. Now close your eyes.”  
He gasps and sits bolt upright, tossing off the covers and bolting toward the living room despite my hissed questions and protests. When he returns a minute later he’s crunching down on half of a carrot, a half cookie in his hand and just a trace of milk around his lips. “I knew I forgot something,” he mumbles.  
I have a crack at singing him to sleep, just like he does for Sadie and me, but he'll tell me tomorrow that I feel asleep mid-Silent Night long before he did.

Christmas day is an immersive experience that walks a fine line between perfection and sensory overload – the music is just loud enough to be heard beneath the ecstatic babble of children and animated discussion of adults, punctuated by the occasional curse of a parent who forgot to buy batteries or can't release the favourite toy from its plastic-packaging-prison. Sadie's wide blue eyes dart about everywhere, blinking Christmas lights and more bright colours than she's likely ever seen in one place competing for her attention; the aroma of dinner and spices from the various puddings and desserts make my mouth water; I can already taste the trifle.

I don't know which is more joyful to watch – the children or Chris. He really is the big kid of the family, the uncle who is up for anything and the first to take them out in the freezing cold to try out their new toys and give the adults a chance to finish preparing the food. His energy almost makes me nauseous but for its purity, and always when I'm beginning to feel overwhelmed there's a warm hand resting on my back or my hip, reassurance whispered in my ear, a gentle kiss on my cheek.

When all is said and done, presents given and opened with squeals of excitement, paper bundled up for the trash, leftover food put away once everyone's stomachs are fit to burst, the kids are bathed to warm their frozen noses and hands from playing outside with Chris before being rugged up in their new Christmas pajamas and tucked into bed. We've moved the party back to our house, Sadie too is sleeping soundly, and we've all reached the gentle tipsy buzz that only happens from constant but well paced wine consumption.

Mum and dad are first to retire to their room, followed by Jonathan and Jenna. I thought Chris would be ready for bed at the same time as Sadie given his level of energy today but he's still going strong, in fact I'm considering filling the bath with Sadie's bedtime bubbles to calm him down.   
“C'mere, beautiful,” he says, pulling me up off the couch by the hand and leading me down the hall away from the bedrooms.   
“Where are we going?” I giggle.  
“I wanted to give you a good tour of the house. Have you seen the theatre room?”  
“Yeah, Jenna and I did some exploring yesterday. It's a beautiful home.”  
“I really love it, this is the kind of home I imagined having when I always said I'd come back to start a family.”  
“I can see why. A bit big for us, though.”  
“Why?” He stops and looks deflated.  
“We only need two bedrooms, what are we gonna do with the other three?”  
“Well I thought, maybe when you're ready... there might be more little Chrises and Amelias to fill them.” He tugs my hips toward him and presses our bodies together, kissing the side of my neck.  
“Oh. I'm not against the idea, but I was thinking maybe one more would be enough.” I don't know how to move past the day when the geneticist told us that any future children would have a good chance of sharing Sadie's hearing deficit. She's our pride and joy and I wouldn't have her any other way but no one would deny she has challenges, and she will have for the rest of her life. I just don't know how I'd cope with hearing that news again, and again, or wondering all the way through another pregnancy.   
“We don't have to decide right now.” He continues down the hall and turns on the lights in the theatre room. “I only asked because this house is for sale. We could have this, Amelia. I can see us living here.”  
“Wow. It didn't actually occur to me that we could even afford this. I mean I sure as hell can't.”  
“What's mine I yours, baby. Always has been. And I can, easily. We can look at others as well if you want.”  
I suddenly feel very sober and Chris has rapidly lost his Christmas vibe. “Can I think about it for a couple of days?”  
“Sure.” He flicks the light switch and threads his fingers gently into mine. Too gently, like he's deliberately restraining his frustration. “How about I take you to bed.”  
“That's the best idea I've heard all day.”

Chris's touch is smooth and soft, our movements so slow and gentle the candles above the bed remain steady. He lifts me on top and sits up to press his torso against mine, our bodies moving fluidly together until my climax pulls his seed deep inside me. The act is, as always, like a drug in its effect on my mind – I put away all of the earlier worries and discussion for another day and melt into his embrace, sated and sleepy.

 


	13. Miss Mary Mack

Social media is not your friend, kids. It's a fickle bitch who will turn on you at the first sign of trouble, at best leaving you with rumours you'd rather not have to address, or at worst smashing up your life with truths never meant to be public. Amelia isn't speaking to me, I'm sleeping in my old room back at mom's, and I expect before this next week is out I might be making cancellation payments to wedding suppliers.

The week started off like any other, with the exception of the frequent calls from the wedding planner. Amelia doesn't know the venue, just the time she has to be ready for the car to the airport, and while I think the suspense was beginning to affect her she's so excited about the surprise she barely even asked about the details. I couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she realised what was happening, and more so I couldn't wait for her to be my wife. Scott had a few surprises in store for me as well, which he'd already run by Amelia. Of course he was organising my bachelor party and of course it was always going to be in Vegas, so with a rather long and passionate kiss goodbye she shipped me off for three days of gambling and booze.

The first night was all about the Rio, and the Penn and Teller show. I have buddies who at least believe they can play poker and a couple won some serious money on Blackjack with dumb luck, but I was mostly content just taking in the atmosphere. If I'm gonna give money away I'd rather it was a good cause than a roulette wheel or a craps table. Then again, I think I ended up with more than I started with thanks to the slot machines, and I had a great time being able to let my hair down and not worry about getting up for Sadie in the morning, so we planned to do similar the next night.

That was all going to plan until we decided to go somewhere other than the Rio. There were arguments about strip clubs along the way, more prostitutes than I've ever seen in my life, and I swear on my life I was offered five different recreational drugs within a quarter mile.  
I love Vegas. It is what it is, exactly as it says on the label. Everyone's happy and having a good time without hurting anyone, everyone you pass in the street wants to be your friend, it's like Disneyland for grownups.

Okay, not Disneyland. No, it deserves it's own category, nothing compares to Disney. But Vegas is like... Something not as good as Disneyland, for grown ups.

The cops, though. Full respect to them, they do not fuck around.

“Have you used drugs or alcohol this evening, Sir?”  
“Just alcohol. Uh, a lot of it. And please don't call me Sir. Chris is fine, really.”  
The man behind the medical desk gave me a polite smile. “Chris, I hope to never see you again. Take a seat and someone will call your name.”  
Sitting was exactly what I didn't want to do, but that's my punishment. Not pacing or fidgeting while I try to work out how to spin this so my balls don't end up as a purse, I had to sit still. And naturally I had to sit next to a drunk driver who would not shut up about it being the other guy's fault. I found out later the 'other guy' was in fact a fire hydrant. That right there, is what hell feels like.

The middle-aged officer who guided me around when I arrived appeared beside me. “We're ready for you, Chris. Come with me.”  
In the intervening time I'd sobered up quite a bit and now I just felt stupid, with my wrists cuffed to my waist and all of my belongings taken away. I could have cried, I just wanted to go home, and I wanted to take back the events of the evening and just stay at the Rio. I sighed and stood up from the ridiculously unforgiving hard plastic seat.   
“I appreciate the discretion, Officer. I just want to get through this and go home.”  
She nodded and took me to a window, showing me a sheet of paper my brain wasn't ready to comprehend and still refuses to accept.   
“So you've been charged with misdemeanor simple battery, witness testimony has been taken into account and you'll be issued a one thousand dollar fine. No jail time. We'll get you through the rest of the process and then you're free to go.”

 _Don't cry, Chris._  
I wanted to be relieved but even in my alcohol-affected state I knew what that meant – I'll have a record. My mug shots would probably be in all the tabloids.   
_Fucking fuck fuck_.

Scott met me outside in a cab a couple of hours later.  
“Everyone's on board and confident it won't get out. That charge is a tiny thing, it will all be fine.”  
“You didn't tell mom? Or Amelia?”  
“Hell no, you can do that yourself.”  
Panic turned my insides into a bee hive at the thought of telling my gorgeous, sweet fiancee that I was arrested for hitting a random guy on the street, that if I hadn't been so drunk and missed my mark I'd have shattered his face and probably ended up with a hefty jail sentence.   
“No. She doesn't need to know, it's been dealt with.” My own voice sounded so calm I could barely believe it was me.  
“Chris, come on.”  
“Promise me you won't say anything. It's mine to deal with and I'll do it how I see fit.”  
He shook his head and wiped his hand over his face. “Whatever you want.”

Stupid, right?   
Yeah. I know that now, but I'd made my mind up and like a mule trying to push through a brick wall rather than go around it I was determined to see it through my way.   
I needn't have worried about how long it would take to blow over. Like a teenage twink its load was blown all over the internet before our flight landed. Unfortunately I didn't know this until it was too late.   
“How was it?” Amelia asked after kissing me hello like everything was normal. “Strippers? Lost all of our money? Won us bajillions?”  
“No.” I laughed. “No strippers, just dancers. The difference is quite subtle, but they keep their tiny costumes on. And I think we came out even.” I picked up Sadie as she tugged at my pants. “I missed you.”  
“We missed you, too. Glad you're home, daddy.”

Full credit to her poker face, she gave me plenty of opportunities to stop digging my own grave and come clean. It's almost frightening, she's never been so good at lying to me before. If ever I go back to Vegas I am sure as shit taking her with me, we'd clean the place out.  
“Is there anything you want to tell me?” she asked as she pulled back the covers that night.  
“Like what?”  
“I'm just asking, you haven't told me much about your trip. I thought there might be more to it than drinking and general shenanigans.”  
“We saw Penn and Teller, that was awesome.”  
“Mm?”  
She just sat there, leaning against the pillows in her lacy camisole with her tits almost spilling out. Her eyes didn't flinch, staring into me like she was trying to draw out the truth, like I was a criminal under the bright lights of interrogation. Then I noticed the hint of moisture in her eyes, the tension in her jaw.  
I sighed and sat up beside her. “Just spit it out, what do you know?”  
“I don't know anything, Chris. You seem to be hiding something, though.”  
“I punched a guy. He said horrible things to Scott because he'd seen him dancing with some guy so we left the club and he followed us, hurling abuse, and I just... I snapped.”  
“And then?”  
“I was arrested, spent a few hours in jail. Misdemeanor charge, thousand dollar fine.”  
“Why didn't you tell me?” She was so calm. Too calm.  
“Because I'm an idiot and thought I could keep it quiet.”  
“Yep.”  
That's all she said. She lay down and went to sleep and when I woke up the next morning she'd packed me a bag to take to mom's for a few days.

It wasn't about the incident, I know that. I'm in exile because I lied to her, because I purposely tried to cover it up. I don't even know why, it was inevitable that she'd find out and she'd probably have forgiven me already if I'd just come clean.   
“What were you thinking?” mom says through a similarly clenched jaw, setting a coffee down a little harder than necessary on the bench in front of me. Funny I've never noticed a physical similarity between her and Amelia until now, but the eyes and jaw are almost identical in their restrained rage and devastating disappointment.  
“I don't know! I wasn't, obviously. I hoped I'd save her some of the shame or second hand embarrassment, or... it was just stupid. We all know that.”  
“You're damn right. Chris, you've never lied to me about anything. Or perhaps you have, I wouldn't know, would I?”  
“Of course I haven't, ma. You know I haven't.”  
“Poor Amelia will be thinking the same, how can she trust you when you were going to lie to her about something she'd forgive so easily?”  
“Because I sure as hell don't want to feel like this again.”

I've tried not to call or text too much because she wanted space, but I've Skyped with Sadie every day and she's sent me photos of what they've been up to. Facing a third night in a bed that's not only too small but far too cold without her in it I decide calling her can't make things any worse.  
“Hey, babe,” I say quietly when she answers. “Can we talk?”  
“Yeah.” She sighs. “I just don't understand why you'd lie. Shit, we're about to get married and you're keeping something like this from me? What else should I know about?”  
“Nothing, I promise. I'm so sorry, that was just the worst thing I could have done. I don't even have an explanation I was just... I panicked and I made the wrong call.”  
“Panicked about what?”  
“Telling you what happened, that I'd spent a few hours in jail. God, I was so ashamed. I completely lost it with the guy and my brain just snapped.”  
“Okay, but I would have done the same.” She pauses and then laughs quietly. “Well, maybe not. I'd have used words instead of my fist.”  
“I don't know how to make it up to you, all I can say is I'm sorry.”  
“I was so angry, Chris. You had so many opportunities to tell me and I found out on fucking Facebook! Then you came home and I gave you opening after opening and you still lied to my face!”  
“Babe, I'm so sorry. If there was something I could say...”  
“There isn't, it's too late. What's done is done.” There's a rustle on the other end and her sniffles tear my heart right out of my chest. “I miss you,” she whispers.  
“I miss you, too. Both of you. How's Sadie?”  
“She's napping. I just... Fuck. I wish none of this had happened. I wish I'd never found out, but mostly I wish you'd just called me and told the truth.”  
“I know. Amelia, I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry.”  
There's a long pause and more rustling and sniffing before she speaks again.  
“Come home,” she whispers. “Just... come home, babe.”  
“You mean that? Now?”  
“Yeah. Drive safe, okay?”  
“Always. I'll see you soon.”

Five minutes down the road I pull over and call mom to explain why I just left, I was so keen to get back to my girls that I forgot to say goodbye. She understands, she always does, but demands I switch the car off and collect myself for a few minutes before driving any further.

As soon as my hand is on the door Amelia flings it open and grabs me around my neck, burying her face as I kiss the top of her head.  
“You can't do this to us, okay?” she says between sobs. “If you fuck up we can fix it together but I will not tolerate you lying to me.”  
“I won't, I would never do this to us a second time. I'll do my best not to fuck up either.”  
Sadie appears behind Amelia, rattling along with her baby doll in a stroller and her legs wobbling her forward. She's not quite walking, only if she's holding on to something like this, but she's so so close. With a beaming smile she drops to hands and knees and speed crawls the rest of the distance to my feet, pulling herself up on the leg of my jeans.   
“Please tell me we're gonna be okay, babe.”  
“We're gonna be okay, babe,” Amelia says with a watery smile.

I didn't expect things to go back to normal immediately, and I wouldn't blame her for withholding sex until at least after the wedding, so when I emerge from the shower a week later and she's in bed naked and beckoning me with her finger I feel like I've hit the jackpot. She pounces on me as soon as I join her, pinning me down and straddling my thighs. While our tongues are getting thoroughly reacquainted I hear a metallic rattle, and then she's gathering my hands together above my head.  
“What are you up to?” I ask as I feel cold handcuffs attaching me to the bedhead.   
“Can't take any chances with a convicted criminal in my bed,” she says with a laugh.  
I pout.   
“Too soon?” she challenges with a raised eyebrow.  
I chuckle and squirm beneath her. “Actually, I'm not... never mind.”  
There are times to keep your mouth shut, and this is one of them. Technicalities do not belong in the bedroom, especially when your fiancee has you naked and handcuffed to the bed.


	14. Nuts in May

"Minnie? Really?" I asked over Chris's shoulder six weeks ago. "I thought you'd go mermaids or something."  
"Nah, save those for when she's older. Minnie Mouse is classic. Gotta be the original red, though, none of this candy pink stuff."  
I patted his shoulder blade and kissed his cheek, returning to the basket of washing I was folding. "Okay, Disney purist. You're sure you want to organise it all?"  
"It's a first birthday, babe. How hard can it be?"  
  
He's outdone himself, and I should have known.  
  
It was Lisa's clever suggestion to hold the party at her house, considering it will be mostly made up of family from Boston, anyway. Everything has been perfectly coordinated for this afternoon's party, down to the confetti sprinkles on the tables and the little area he's specifically set up for Sadie to go to town on her own giant cupcake. Now if only we could get the birthday girl to cooperate.  
"Teeth?" Chris asks while I'm sitting on his old bed trying to calm her.  
"I don't think so, she's never been this bad with teeth and she's not dribbling or anything."  
"Maybe she's sick? Hungry? Hormonal?"   
I frown at him so sharply he raises his hands. Chris gets down in front of her and tries a few signs -- hungry, drink, sore.  
"Chris, I've tried all of that already," I snap.   
His bright blue eyes find mine, waiting patiently for me to return his gaze. "What's wrong, Doc?"  
"I just wish she wasn't like this today, she's such a happy girl the rest of the time. I wanted today to be perfect."  
"Let me take her for a bit, hm? You go get ready for the party, take your time."  
Naturally as soon as she's in daddy's arms she's back to her chirpy self, and I don't want to admit that it smarts a little. Sadie will always be daddy's girl, I think.  
  
I can hear people arriving while I put the finishing touches on my makeup and smooth my dress down for the hundredth time. PMS has me blown up like a balloon and I'm kind of pissed off that that had to happen today, too. Sadie's squealing and giggling carry straight up the stairs as I'm coming down and I can't help but smile, she seems to have cheered up a little at least.   
She waddles unsteadily to the foot of the stairs to meet me -- a skill she's only mastered in the last week -- wearing a huge smile and a pair of Minnie Mouse ears. Her red, white, and black dress is all tulle and ruffles and as she signs 'mum' at me it hits me like a pallet of bricks -- our baby girl is one year old. How did that even happen?  
  
It's only when Chris is swiping the tears from my cheeks that I feel them.   
"Hey, why the tears?"  
"I don't know, I just can't believe... we survived her first year, and it feels like yesterday she was so tiny..."  
He chuckles and engulfs us both in a warm hug until Sadie starts to squirm and wants down.   
"She seems to have worked out the grumps," I say as she takes off chasing the other children.   
"Um, yeah... I think it's her hearing aids, I turned them off and she perked up straight away. They're back on now but I turned the volume down and she seems happier."  
I let out a long sigh. We were warned about this, because all the aids do is amplify everything it can become overwhelming but we're seeing the specialist to discuss a cochlear implant next week. We've also been reminded frequently the last few months that they're only there to help with her speech development, she'll never hear well enough to converse without signing and lip-reading.   
"They were only meant to last until she turned one," I say quietly.   
"Come on, I think mumma needs some party food."  
"Chris, look at this belly." I rub it and he gets a rather disturbing twinkle in his eye. "The last thing I need is party food."  
He drags me to the table anyway, where the food Lisa, Carly, Shanna, and I have spent the last 24 hours preparing is laid out and looks so pretty I almost don't want to eat it. Perhaps because I know how much effort it took, I don't think I ever need to see another mini Oreo or strawberry as long as I live.  
  
The rest of the party goes without a hitch, thanks to Chris's organising. It's a fairly relaxed afternoon, with Sadie being a little too young for most party games, but she's so excited by the candles and the cake, I'm really grateful someone suggested we get a photographer because we're both too busy watching the excitement on her face to take any pictures. All of my worrying that it wouldn't be as perfect as I imagined is gone, because we have a healthy one year old and are surrounded by family.  
  
"Amelia," Chris says, gently kissing my cheek and squeezing my hand. "Wake up, baby."  
"Hm?"  
"Sadie's asleep, I've put her in the cot. I want to show you something before we go to bed."  
Now I remember, I lay down on Chris's bed with her because she was so overstimulated she couldn't sleep -- I wonder which one of us nodded off first? I quickly find out that just being upright isn't good enough, he wants me fully dressed with boots, coat, and hat on even though I'd much rather just sleep. Apparently Lisa is going to stay with Sadie while Chris takes me out for a walk.  
"I am not built for this. It's unnatural." My boots crunch in the snow, and while I still find it exciting when the first dusting arrives I'll never understand his fascination with walking around in it. It's just far too fucking cold.  
"It'll be worth it, I promise."  
I soon realise he's taking me to the house we rented temporarily at Christmas with my parents, the one I thought was too big. We didn't discuss it again, but I can see now that there's a huge sign out front, presumably declaring it on the market. I certainly don't feel like talking about property acquisition right now when my lips are trembling and I can't feel my toes -- maybe that's his plan, he knows I'll give in easily just to get out of the cold.   
"Chris, it's lovely, but do we have to do this right now? I think I might have left my nose on the last corner."  
"I know, but... oh."  
"What?"  
He points to the sign and more disappointment that I expected settles heavily in my gut -- a large 'SOLD' sticker covers the sign diagonally.   
"Oh. Well..." I trail off, watching Chris bounce on the balls of his feet with a smile that would rival the Cheshire Cat.  
"I have to tell you something." He fishes a key from his pocket and holds it up. "I bought it. I came for another look yesterday and the agent said they'd had an offer, I had to move quick. Are you mad?"  
"Am I mad? You're fucking crazy!" I laugh. "Of course I'm not mad. A little consultation might have been nice, but you just bought us a house, how could I possibly be anything but ecstatic. Can we go in?"  
"Hell yeah we can go in, we own it! I know you hate being pressured into quick decisions, I figured this way if you decided no I'd rent it out or sell it."  
"I love you." I wrap my arms around him from behind while he slides the key into the lock. "Have I told you how happy you make me today?"  
"Mmm, a few times. But I never tire of hearing it, and I think there might be more coming."  
  
I'm not surprised to find it a little less homely than last time -- it's dark, there's no furniture, and a lot of empty, blank space. But it's warm and inviting, which isn't what I expected from a house with no one living in it, and then Chris turns on the lights...  
A fire is crackling away in the hearth, the glowing coals below giving off enough heat that perspiration beads on my cheeks. Just in front a thick, padded picnic rug has been laid out along with a pile of large cushions and a cooler. Chris takes my coat and hangs it on a hook by the door while I toe off my boots, and dims the overhead lights so that the room is mostly lit by warm orange flames.   
"We've earned a few hours to ourselves, I think." He sits cross-legged on the rug and invites me to do the same, leaning in to kiss my lips gently. "What are you thinking?"  
"I'm thinking you know me better than I know myself. I'm thinking the house is perfect. We're going to be happy here, I can already see Sadie and the dogs running around the back yard, playing in the snow, some swings and maybe a kiddie pool in summer..."  
"Maybe a sibling or two?"  
I sigh.  
"Not right now," he jumps in, grabbing my hand and squeezing it gently. "Somewhere down the track."  
  
Chris pours us both a red wine and pulls out a plate of cheeses and crackers while we discuss having more children, going back to work, when we'll move in. He's still keeping the wedding a surprise except for the date and my dress, and while it's driving me crazy the amazing job he did on Sadie's party has made all of my worries disappear.   
After a while he opens his legs so I can sit between them with the fire warming my back, and I reach up to stroke his cheek.   
"We did it, daddy. We survived the first year and it's mostly thanks to you."  
"It was a team effort, Doc. Don't sell yourself short."  
"Chris, I spent most of it at work. You have been nothing short of an amazing father and partner this year. Don't you dare minimise that. I love you more every day and I can't wait to marry you, whatever you've organised will be perfect."  
"Can I have that in writing?" he murmurs against my lips as I kiss him.  
I shake my head and smile, running my tongue along his bottom lip until he opens and deepens the kiss, threading his fingers into the back of my hair. My fingers tug at the hem of his shirt, raking over the skin beneath as I raise it up to his ribs, but he breaks the kiss and laces our fingers together.  
"Slow down, there's no rush tonight. It's just us, no one is gonna walk in, mom is taking care of Sadie," he laughs, "even the dogs can't interrupt. Relax."  
With another deep kiss he guides me onto my back on the pillows, pressing his body against mine while our hands explore gently through our clothes. He has a point, sex has become a game of efficiency that might be interrupted at any time, not that we enjoy it any less, but we've become elite athletes in the race to orgasm.   
By the time his lips move to my jaw and the side of my neck I let out a long sigh, his rough stubble scratching my skin as he nuzzles in hard and drags his teeth over my pulse. He groans into my shoulder as my fingers scratch light circles on his flank, this time lifting his shirt slowly and carefully attending every inch of skin as it is exposed.  
As he undresses me his touch is feather-light, kissing and caressing me through my bra and panties until I'm rolling my hips and arching my back in desperation. He chuckles deep in his throat as he rubs my swollen pussy through my panties and I twist my pelvis in the hope his fingers will slip in through the side.   
"Fuck, Chris... Please."  
In response he returns his attention to my chest, unfastening my bra and sucking a hardened nipple between his teeth after finally allowing me to remove his shirt and feel his skin on mine. His hand runs up my back as it arches off the rug to press our bodies together, holding me up so he can move his mouth down to kiss around my belly until it's covered in goosebumps. My fingers thread into his thick hair as he works his way down and slides my panties down my legs, making a path back up the inside of my thigh with his mouth.   
"Oh, fuck," I sigh at his hot breath on my sex, "wait."  
"What's wrong?" he asks without stopping his fingers exploring my folds.   
"Not with your mouth... it could get messy." Is there a more efficient way to ruin the mood than bringing up your period?  
Consummate professional that he is, he carries on without missing a beat, kissing and biting my thigh instead while his thumb rolls around my engorged bud. Between the bloating and the moodiness I know I'll probably start bleeding at the worst possible moment, but I also know with absolute certainty that Chris doesn't care. When you're dating an actor and working like a maniac, you just have to take whatever sex you can get. He made it clear early on that he'd sooner ignore it than miss out on sex completely, I think I hesitated far more than he did.   
With two long fingers he rubs slow strokes over my g-spot while his thumb makes relentless circles on my clit, until I'm wiggling against him and my legs start to shake...  
With a darkness in his eyes he slips his fingers out and sheds the rest of his clothes, positioning himself between my legs and guiding his hard length all the way inside with a long groan into my neck.  
His thrusts are long and deep, grinding against me with each stroke and making that delicious wiggle of his hips that usually gets me off in record time. It's just out of reach, though, even with my fingers fluttering gently in time and my pelvis pushing back against him at the perfect angle. 

  
As is its habit, my mind quickly wanders from the freckles on Chris's neck to the tiny birth mark I found on Sadie's back while I bathed the cupcake icing from her hair, and then on to worrying about what might happen with the implant, and at least if we have more children who are deaf we'll know how to deal with it...  
"Hey," Chris says right beside my ear. "Where'd you go?"  
"Mmm," I moan as he grazes my bud and grinds gently, halting his thrusts. "I didn't go anywhere. You feel so good."  
"Babe, nothing outside of you and me matters right now. Stop worrying about Sadie and whatever else and be here. Right here," he points two fingers to the centre of my chest, "right now. Look at me."  
How do I ever look away from those eyes? They're just the most stunning blue I've ever seen, even more so when he's excited or happy. The shallow lines around each one are like a tally recording a lifetime of quick smiles and easy laughter. I trace my finger around his full lips and he gently sucks the tip before rolling his hips against me, hoisting my leg higher and forcing the breath from my lungs as he pushes deeper. 

  
He kisses my mouth deeply as he starts to move again, my hands clasping at the back of his neck and toying with the ends of his hair. I moan into his mouth as we move together, drawing deep raspy breaths when he pulls back a couple of inches from my face.  
"Eyes on me, babe," he commands. "Come for me. I want to watch them go wide and light up when you clench that tight cunt on my cock. Come on. Give it to me."  
And nothing exists outside of his firm shoulders under my clawing fingers; the weight of his torso and the brush of his chest on my raw nipples as he moves; sex and sweat and cologne fill my nostrils; his grunts and growls and his words like the sweetest symphony in my ears; and all I see is those dancing oceans of eyes and the rigid set of his jaw as I fight to keep my eyes open and focused. The orgasm that takes over my body is more slow swell than crashing wave and I cling to Chris while every muscle contracts and releases, leaving me convulsing and whimpering beneath him.  
"Yesssss," he whispers, kissing behind my ear. "There is nothing more fucking beautiful in this world than making your body move like that for me, Amelia. Fuck."  
My walls are still firing off contractions as he resumes his movements, every nerve still heightened to every touch, and each time his veined shaft passes through I moan in pleasure, spurring him on. After a few minutes of steady thrusts he speeds up and then begins to falter, his eyes darkening as they burn into mine, and with a grunt I feel him pulse against me as he spills deep inside. Through my fingertips I feel the shudder than runs down his spine with a series of languid rolls of his hips while he kisses me slowly with a deep hum.  
"God damn I love you so fucking much. All I want is to make you and Sadie happy."  
"You do, babe. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, the way you've changed my life and challenged me. And our little girl has the best daddy in the world."  
As he smiles down at me every one of my fears drains away. Whatever happens we are exponentially stronger together, whatever the future holds if I have Chris by my side then I know we'll handle it. Of course the words my mouth decides to spit out are a little less articulate but I think he gets the idea:  
"Let's make a sibling for Sadie."


	15. Open, Shut Them

I kind of knew Amelia wouldn't want to wait, once the contracts on the house were officially settled there were boxes quickly shrinking our apartment and the movers were booked so we'd be residents of Massachusetts before we were married. Living back in Sudbury is every bit as perfect as I hoped. Mom and Carly are both within walking distance and Sadie will grow up close to her cousins, and no one gives a shit if I spend an hour at the park with one of Sadie's therapists. Sadie is right now wobbling around our yard with the dogs and saying 'snow all gone', signing and speaking at the same time like that's what everyone does. She's been confused as it got warmer and the snow stopped falling regularly, I think she expected it would be a permanent feature in her new home. Right after the wedding she will have her cochlear implant fitted and while I know neither of us are looking forward to putting her into surgery we hope it will mean an improvement in her hearing, or at least won't bother her like the hearing aids are doing now.  
  
When I first made the bookings for the wedding I'd intended for us all to fly separately -- draw less attention and all that -- but when I told the wedding planner how many of us would be flying from Boston she sent me prices for commercial flights and booking a charter flight, and well... who could refuse surprising their fiancee further with a private jet? Sure as hell not me. I've taken to calling it wedding week because the excitement is going to go on far longer than just a day -- it begins with the car picking us up later this morning and doesn't really end until we return, particularly since Amelia doesn't know when that will be.   
She's been packing for a week, I have no doubt she hasn't forgotten anything important. There will be something, there always is, but given the circumstances she's quite calm over breakfast.    
"You look rather radiant this morning," I tell her.    
"I'm just excited," she says with a smile, shifting her coffee mug out of Sadie's reach.     
"You know if anything was really making you anxious I'd just spill all the details, right?"    
"Of course. Babe, I can't believe you've done so well. You're the worst secret-keeper ever, you're terrible at lying, and yet we're about to get on a plane and I still have no idea. How is that even possible?"    
"Beats me." I shrug.    
"Promise me one thing, though? I don't want to get drunk. If you do, be my guest. I don't want to be the drunk bride, just tipsy will be fine."    
"You got it, and I don't want to, either. I want to remember every second."  
  
That smile. I'll never be immune to it and I'll never get enough.    
It's the smile that tells me she loves me, lets me know I'm her world and she knows I feel the same. That beaming, sparkling, eye-crinkling smile is the reason I wanted all of this to be a surprise, because as each part is revealed I get one of 'those' smiles.     
It first appeared when the car pulled up out front, followed by the rest of the procession with their windows down and familiar children waving from each one. She knew then that we were all going together, even though I'd let her believe it was just the three of us. It grew a little wider and almost watery when we pulled up to the jet, and was accompanied by a contagious laugh as the carpet between the door of our car and the aircraft stairs was rolled out.     
"What did you do?" she squealed from behind her hand.   
"Ladies and gentlemen, little misses and masters, this is your Captain speaking. A water tight confidentiality agreement prevents me from telling you our destination today, but I can tell you we will be arriving in the early evening local time and it will be fairly warm. I can also tell you there won't be any need for passports."    
Amelia slaps my arm at that, I told her to bring them just in case.    
"Our flight time will be approximately six hours. Enjoy your flight and I'll let you know where we are once we've landed."    
She has a vague idea of where we're headed now -- that long on a plane without leaving the country doesn't leave a lot of options and the west coast is the obvious choice -- but I don't mind. Sadie is seated between us when we take off but that doesn't last long, she's quickly up and about hanging out with her grandparents and playing in the area arranged for the children.   
Amelia moves across to snuggle into me, kissing my lips and then resting her head on my chest.     
"Do I tell you often enough, how amazing you are? I could never ask for a better father or husband, Chris. I love you so much."    
"I love you too, Doc. I can't wait for you to walk down that aisle."    
God I really hope she likes the venue. It's kind of the pinnacle of the whole thing and it's not like we can change one aspect and make her happy, it's kind of a love it or hate it deal. Then again if she hated it we wouldn't be here, it's part of our history.  
  
Six hours is a long, long, long time for a one year old to be on a plane. Six hours is kind of a long time for her to be awake, especially considering it was nap time when we boarded, so when she finally falls asleep on my chest an hour before we're due to land it's less than ideal.     
There's a flurry of people getting back to their seats and putting away toys and books, finishing off drinks and snacks, when the pilot announces our descent. It's nothing on the applause and cheering that follows his revealing our destination, though.    
"Welcome to Santa Ana, California, folks. Congratulations to the happy couple and I hope you enjoy your stay."    
"Santa Ana?" Amelia mouths, smiling at me again.    
I shrug. "It's warm and sunny, as good as any place to get married."    
Once again our convoy of cars make the short journey a straight forward but conspicuous one, and although she remains externally calm I can see that smile getting broader and broader as we pull through the gates of the resort and are taken to our rooms. Everyone else is bubbling with excitement -- they already knew where we were going except for the children -- but she stays very controlled until the door closes to our suite.    
"Disneyland?" She squeals and bounces up and down, throwing open the curtains to look out over the park at sunset. "Are you serious?"    
"This will be our home for a few days, yeah. I thought Sadie might like a look around before we head home and this is nice and close to the wedding venue, so..."    
"We're not getting married there, though?"    
"I can neither confirm nor deny..." I erupt into laughter and pull her into my arms. "No, we're not actually getting married there. You'll still have to wait until you arrive tomorrow to find that part out."    
"Can I have a hint?"    
"Nope."     
She laughs and nips at my jaw.    
"Da!" Sadie tugs at my pants and points at the window, I lift her up and her eyes go wide as she takes in the view.    
"That's Disneyland," I say, showing her the sign. "You are gonna love it. Minnie is in there. And Mickey. We'll have to teach mommy all their signs, huh?"    
I've been learning them all for weeks so that when we visit she'll be able to put faces to them. Or, maybe I'm expecting a little too much from a one year old and I just wanted to know.  
  
After dinner Sadie is just about falling asleep in the bath so it's little wonder she's out within a minute of putting her in the cot even though it's not the one she's used to.     
"I'm going to head over to Scott when you're ready for bed." I pull a bottle of champagne from the fridge and Amelia frowns at me.    
"Wait, what?"    
"I thought I'd spend the night there, night before the wedding and all that."    
She pouts. "But I want you here. It's not like we're virgins, Boston. That ship has sailed, and we have a one year old to prove it."    
"That doesn't mean we can't follow tradition. I'm not supposed to see you until the ceremony."    
"Well... well... We didn't have a rehearsal dinner, that's tradition."    
"We just had it tonight!"    
"That was takeaway pizza on the lawn."    
"Close enough. I thought this would be romantic, having to spend a night apart. And it's bad luck to see the bride on the day."    
"Fine. Can we have sex first?"    
I laugh as she tugs at my shirt and tries to unbuckle my belt. "Doc! C'mon. I mean it. It's only one night."  
  
And so I'm lying on the fold-out in Scott's room, feeling like a teenager again. Complete with beers from the minibar.  
"Did you write your own vows?" he asks.    
"No, the celebrant came up with some lovely ones. Sort of original but there's only so many ways you can say it."    
"You have a speech prepared?"    
"Sure do. The bridesmaid and flower girl look beautiful, thank you everyone for sharing this most special day with us, we feel truly blessed. And toast the bridal party."    
"That's it?"    
"That's all I gotta do."    
"That's all you HAVE to do, but I thought... never mind."    
"No, you can't do that. You thought what?"    
"I thought you'd want to gush over how much you love her, how she's changed your life, what a milf she is. That sort of stuff."    
"I can do that in private, and please don't ever say milf again."    
"You can, but I can tell you from experience that public declarations of love get you way more brownie points. And blow jobs. I'm just sayin'."    
"Now I know what that karaoke dedication was about when we were in high school. What was that guy's name?"    
"Devon," he says wistfully. "And it totally worked."    
"I could have done without the extra info. Amelia's the kind of girl that likes it whispered in her ear, y'know? She doesn't... I don't need to...I already get plenty... Fuck it, you got a pen?"  
  
As it turns out, writing down all the reasons I love Amelia is easy, it's making them sound flowery and articulate that's the hard part. I'm almost falling asleep when my phone rings and it's only then I notice Scott is already snoring on the other side of the room. Typical, he has the big ideas and then nods off.    
"I can't sleep," Amelia says on the other end. "Come rub my back?"    
I know that tone in her voice, I know her eyes will be wide and playful and she'll have that cheeky grin on her lips, and I know that rubbing her back has nothing to do wih it.     
"Count some sheep," I say dryly.     
"Bet I can make your cock hard in less than a minute."    
I already know I'm not going to win this one. "You think?"    
"Mmm hmm. You know that thing we haven't done in a while, the thing where I slip my finger slowly up inside your ass while I'm sucking your cock? And then the last time it was two fingers, and you took them and begged for more, came so hard down my throat I almost choked."    
I clear my throat. "Yeah, I remember."    
"Hard yet?"    
"No," I lie, shifting my shorts.    
"What about all the times you've bent me over the edge of the bed so you could drill into me standing up? Or when I was pregnant and I'd ride your dick and just come and come and squirt on you."    
"Good times. It's not working, Amelia."    
"You're a terrible liar, Evans."  
  
Half an hour later I collapse beside her with a blissful sigh and she rests her sweaty cheek on my collarbone.     
"Better?" I ask, stroking her hair.    
"Yeah," she says sleepily. "Mm tired now."    
"I'll head back out once you're asleep, ok?"    
"M'kay."  
  
The next thing I know the room is getting lighter and I look over the naked beauty in my arms to see it's almost 7am.    
"Son of a bitch."    
She gasps and rests a hand on my chest. "Chris, it's wedding day. I'm... we're getting married today."    
"Yeah we are." I kiss her slowly. "I can't wait."    
She giggles as I slap a hand over my eyes and start to sit up. "What are you doing, you dork?"    
"It's bad luck for me to see you!"    
"We don't need luck, we have each other."    
I can't help but give in when she pulls me back down against her warm skin and starts kissing my neck.    
"How much worse do you think it is to fuck the bride?"    
We're both willing to take the chance, but we don't get much further before Sadie is awake and wants to get up. This, folks, is why the traditional way is wedding first, kids later.    
Amelia's day has been meticulously planned to keep her busy so it doesn't seem like a huge amount of time to wait. Shanna and Jenna are taking her to have their nails done this morning and then hair and makeup will come here to get them ready. Scott and Carly are taking all of the kids for the day, Sadie will come back and have a nap before she needs to get dressed. Apparently I just need to be here in case of disaster.   
  
I needn't have worried about staying busy, my phone never seems to stop with texts saying people have arrived at the resort, and I'm trying to greet all of them at reception right up until I have something more important to do. Sebastian and Tulia are among the last I have the chance to see, with children in tow and looking happier and more in love than ever.     
"Just because you're last to get hitched doesn't mean you have to do it in such spectacular fashion," Sebastian says as he slaps my shoulder. "Is it still a surprise or did she find out?"    
"Still a surprise," I reply with a wink. "She has no idea."    
As soon as I'm back in Scott's room it's time for a quiet drink while Ilaria dresses us both, and although I'm sure part of the Best Man's job is to give marriage advice the time is an eerily silent reflection on the slowly sinking sun as the last of the crowds leave the park for the day.  
  
And then -- while a blur of people rush around me and wish me their best, and seats are taken, and my beautiful baby girl with her tiny basket of petals is escorted down the glittering white aisle by her suited-up cousin, followed by Jenna in blue with a proud-as-punch Jonathan on her arm -- then, finally, my eyes find the woman I've waited all day and all my life for.  
  
Beautiful doesn't even touch the way she looks. I was a little worried her makeup would be so thick or her hair so different that our photos wouldn't really look like her, but she looks just like my gorgeous Amelia with the radiance turned up to eleven. Her dad holds her hand while she descends from the coach and her glistening eyes find mine, and everything stops.   
  
I couldn't care less about where we are or who's here, what the celebrant says and whether I repeat it right. Don't ask me what I'm wearing or what she's wearing, and oh my god, did I brush my teeth right before I came... It all turns a little blurry once I see her, despite Scott handing me one of those rainbow magician's handkerchiefs that just keeps coming as I pull it further from his sleeve, but none of it matters. We might be taking our vows in front of a castle and it might seem like my princess is becoming a queen, but she never needed to marry me for that. In my eyes she was the queen from the first time we met, and I was merely on this earth to stand at her side and make her happy.   
  
God damn if ever I've succeeded in that job, it's today. That smile is all I'll ever need. 


	16. Peter Pan

"Ready?" dad asks, squeezing the hand that isn't holding a bouquet of pink roses.    
"I just need a minute."   
He smiles down at me. "Take your time."  
I know where we're going now, I can see the tops of Sleeping Beauty's castle illuminated a little further down, the setting sun gilding one side of each turret. We're far enough away that it's quiet here, just the sound of the photographer and the restless hooves of the horses that wait to pull us to the ceremony. I'm not nervous but I want a few moments for the surprise to set in and become real -- I'm getting married at Disneyland in front of that beautiful castle, I'm arriving in a white coach drawn by white horses and escorted by men in gold pants. The rest of the park is deserted and I breathe it all in a few times before nodding to the driver on his stool just outside our flower-laden globe.     
"Mickey!" Sadie yells in her slightly-muted little voice, while making round ears on top of her head and pointing at the statue.     
"Mickey Mouse," I sign back with an excited smile.  
Jenna keeps a tight arm around her waist so she can't jump off the seat as her little head whips around in all directions, trying to see everything at once.   
  
When we pull up at the forecourt I can hardly believe it -- the castle is lit up from the ground, with regal banners lining the drawbridge and an arch covered in the same pink and white roses at the end. All of the people stand as the driver opens the coach door and helps Sadie, Jenna, and dad out, saving me for last as the trumpets begin to play. It's verging on too much to take in and I can feel my chest tighten as Sadie toddles off down the aisle, letting Miles steady her as she tosses her tiny petals all around. When Jenna starts to make her way down I grip dad's arm tight and he pats it gently with his hand, leading me to the edge of the carpet to wait for the signal from the celebrant.  
  
I've never had a second thought about marrying Chris, and I don't think I'm having any now, but this feeling like my legs aren't connected to my body and the air I'm breathing is thick like jelly is washing over me and making it difficult to stand. Dad doesn't say anything, just points to Chris watching me from just in front of the arch. Even from here I can see the tears well in his eyes and the proudest, happiest smile on his face. Blowing out my breath I draw one to fill my lungs slowly and then we're walking far too slowly, I just want to get to him as quickly as I possibly can. Scott pulls a bright red handkerchief from his sleeve and offers it to Chris, who takes it and brings it to his eye, but it's attached to another... and another... in every colour of the rainbow, and when I finally get to them they're in fits of laughter as twenty or so strung squares are in Chris's hands like a rainbow bunting.   
  
Scott threads it all back up his sleeve with a mumble about Chris needing it again later, and a pair of warm, soft lips press against my cheek.    
"Hey, beautiful princess," he whispers. "You ready to do this?"  
I nod, and the celebrant asks the guests to be seated. She tells the story of speaking with Chris over the phone while they arranged the ceremony, of how she knew from the first conversation how devoted he is to our family. As if on cue Sadie wants to be held and Chris doesn't skip a beat, reaching down to lift her into his arms where she gently fingers the pink rose in the buttonhole of his beautiful blue suit. It's double-breasted, my favourite look on him, with gold buttons and a striped bow-tie. He'll be itching to get out of the jacket at least, but I won't mind in the slightest -- I'm already picturing his shirt sleeves rolled up and his perfect ass in those pants...  
  
Oh my god I've let my mind wander in the middle of my own wedding ceremony and we're about to begin the vows. Shit. What was I supposed to say again?  
  
Jenna takes my bouquet and Sadie happily transfers to Scott so Chris and I can join hands.   
"Amelia," he smiles and I can already see the quiver in the corner of his mouth. "I give myself to you as your husband, with all that I am and all that I have. I promise to laugh with you, to comfort you, to share your dreams and support you in achieving your goals. I will listen with compassion and speak with encouragement, help when you need it and step aside when you don't. May we build a family that is loving and kind, a home filled with peace and happiness. For better or worse, sickness and health, I will love and respect you for the rest of our lives."    
Through the tears in my eyes I see Sadie draping the handkerchiefs over his shoulder again, the end still attached to Scott, and it's the laugh we both need to compose ourselves.     
"Christopher..."     
His watery eyes look into mine, and I will him not to laugh. We discussed this while writing them, that traditionally the full name is used but he feels like I'm about to give him a lecture rather than vow to love him eternally.    
I clear my throat and continue. "Chris. Boston. Babe. The love of my life, my sunshine. I give myself to be your wife, with all that I am and all that I have. I promise to talk and to listen, to trust and appreciate you, to respect and cherish you, and to comfort and strengthen you through life's joys and sorrows. I take you as my partner in life and love, eagerly anticipating the chance to grow together and get to know the man you will become. May our family continue to grow in health and happiness..." and that's when I lose it.   
Chris squeezes my hands gently and strokes back and forth over my knuckles while I try to catch my breath, swiping at the tears flowing down my cheeks.   
"For better or worse, sickness and health, I will love and respect you for the rest of our lives."  
"The rings?" the celebrant holds her hand out.    
"Oh, shit," Chris says under his breath. "I knew we forgot something."  
Everyone falls silent for a few seconds and he looks right at me, his forehead creased with worry.   
"I'm joking, they're tied to Miles' buttonhole."  
I laugh and slap his chest while Scott tugs on the ribbon holding the rings to the rose in Miles' jacket, handing them to the celebrant and deliberately keeping them from my view.   
Finally I get to see it as he slips a braided three tone band onto my ring finger.   
"Amelia. I choose you above all others to be my wife. I offer this ring as a token of our love, and I join my life to yours. Just as the strands of gold have been carefully braided together with no end, so will our lives be forever intertwined."   
I'm taken by the way the white, rose, and yellow gold have been woven together and mesmerised as it catches the light. I doubt he could have chosen more perfectly, it's not so fussy that it takes away from my engagement ring but enough to be worn on its own. With a start I realise Chris's ring is being held out for me -- the same as mine but thicker and with white gold bands on either side of the braid. His hand shakes a little as he tries to hold it steady and the celebrant holds the words where I can read them before I speak.  
"Chris, I choose you above all others to be my husband..."  
  
The reception is just perfect -- a party with those we love. He's surprised me with my colleagues from our little vet practice in Sydney, and Kat my beautiful neighbour has brought along her husband and boys. My champagne is mixed with guava juice so I don't drink too much, the food is incredible, and I'm so glad he has people filming the entire evening because the details are more than my brain can handle all at once. Brad and Jess bring a special message from home, from the little boy who was given one of Ruby's litter and has really come out of his shell since bonding with his new best friend.   
"You have absolutely nailed it, Evans," I say quietly in his ear while we sway on the dance floor.   
"I aim to please," he kisses my lips, "Mrs Evans."  
I'm nowhere near ready for it to end when our imminent departure is announced and everyone makes the walk back to the castle forecourt.     
"I feel like I haven't spent enough time with everyone. Anyone."    
"It's all right, Doc. Everyone is staying at the hotel at least until tomorrow, there will be plenty of time. Right now, I need some alone time with my wife."    
"Say that again," I whisper with a smile.    
"With my wife. You. Are. My. Wife." He punctuates each word with a kiss on my neck until I giggle and squirm. "Not yet. We still have to get Sadie to bed."    
"Actually, mom is going to follow us back and she'll spend the night in their room unless they really need us. I didn't even think she'd stay up this late."    
Right on cue she tugs at my dress and Chris lifts her up, her head automatically tucking in against his shoulder as I rub her back.  
"One more surprise," Chris says with a grin as the coach pulls up and the driver helps us inside.   
  
Of course there are fireworks, because if you're going to be married in front of a Disney castle and have your reception amongst the Small World characters, you're gonna have fireworks. As the flashes fill the sky Chris holds my hand tight, no doubt concerned about the noise, but living in New York for so long was a little like exposure therapy -- I still have the same triggers but I deal with them so much better -- so I can fully appreciate the beauty and excitement of it. Never in a million years did I expect the staccato bang and slow descent of glittering pyrotechnics to mark the end of my wedding, but it couldn't be more fitting. Chris and Sadie seem to be watching with the same open-mouthed awe, although Chris frequently looks to me for reassurance that he hasn't gone too far. And then we're slowly moving away, leaving the crowd of people behind. I kind of want to go back and be the last to leave rather than the first, but apparently that isn't how it works.     
"I feel like the final strains of 'When you wish upon a star' should be playing," I joke to Chris as we leave the park. "That was perfect from beginning to end."  
"Really? You mean that?"  
"Chris, I loved every second. If you'd asked if I wanted to be married here I'd have laughed, but you did great. I can't imagine anything better."  
Sadie's eyes are already falling closed.   
"But it was so much more than that. It was just..." He gestures, trying to find the right word.  
"Magic," I supply.   
  
With Sadie settled in bed he carefully extracts the pins and jewels from my hair, unfastens the buttons and zip on the back of my dress, and helps me out of it before draping it over a chair.   
"Wow," he whispers.  
Thanks to the lace straps there wasn't any way I could wear a bra, so we opted for a pale pink bustier instead, with matching panties and ivory suspenders attached. I'll admit when to a similar reaction when I was dressing in front of the mirror this afternoon. The stockings have pink bows at the front and back where they attach to the bustier and it's all rather romantic in its lacy pale colours. It's also more than a little uncomfortable, and going to the toilet has been a two-person job all evening. I must remember to thank Jenna with something extra-special on top of her maid of honour gift and the bouquet she caught toward the end of festivities...    
Chris is looking me up and down like some delicious new Brigham's ice cream flavour as he sheds his jacket. His sleeves are already rolled to his elbows -- he spent the reception in his shirt and waistcoat with the sleeves rolled, no doubt well aware that I actually prefer him like that than in a suit -- and he removes the bow tie before his shoes and socks, all the while keeping his eyes on me.     
"Take your panties off for me, babe."  
Unquestioning, I do as he asks, the total exhaustion from just moments ago seeping away with his hungry look.   
"Now sit at the end of the bed," he gulps, "and spread your legs."  
He stands back as I do, admiring me while I watch the erection straining his suit pants. I've wanted to get him out of it for hours, but the idea of him being fully clothed while he does as he pleases with me is so fucking hot...  
  
His hands cup my breasts, squeezing just enough that I arch my back, while he kisses the insides of my thighs, occasionally suckling just enough to make me gasp. I reach down and run my fingers through his thick hair -- admiring the two rings on my left hand that now catch the light -- and he finally settles right where I ache for him. His breath is warm on my swollen lips, my folds soaked and desperate. He keeps me waiting until I whimper and plead, exploring from the outside with his lips and tongue and slowly delving deeper, taking his time to flutter on my clit and breach my pussy with obscene slurps and heavy breath. I moan and fist the crisp white sheet in one hand, the other guiding him by his hair, and he suckles at my clit until a climax rocks my body and I have to push him away to catch my breath.   
  
Chris barely steps out of his pants before he has me right on the edge of the bed, pushing his cock inside me with a guttural groan. He holds my legs up by my ankles and takes me hard and fast and hot, gritting his teeth and panting hard as his balls slap against me. He comes on a drawn-out cry that is part growl, part moan, all deep and breathy as he releases deep inside me and I'm flooded with warmth.   
  
Only when we've both regained our breath does he pull back and remove the rest of his clothes and then mine, joining me in a hot shower before we both collapse into bed. When I look at the clock it's 11:55pm and I realise the day we've looked forward to for so long is almost over and my chest tightens because I wonder if I've taken it all in, if I've enjoyed it enough, I'm not ready for it to end. Chris takes my face in his hands and silences my thoughts by kissing me slowly and thoroughly, our limbs tangled together and warm pink bodies pressed against each other, so that by the time our lips part midnight has come and gone and the rest of our lives are officially underway.   
  
At 2am Chris sits bolt upright and shouts loud enough to frighten me awake. "The cake!"  
"Lay down, babe. You're having a nightmare. We had cake," I murmur, remembering cutting the towering masterpiece and sucking a dollop of sweet icing from his finger.  
He laughs and swings his feet onto the floor. "Did you actually get to eat some, though? I was too busy talkin'!"  
Come to think of it, no. Chris is already darting out and I have to giggle at his lovely white ass.  
"Where are you going?"  
He doesn't answer, but returns a minute later with two pieces of caramel fudge cake wrapped in serviettes. "I asked mom to save some and then forgot about it."  
"You're crazy, and this is amazing," I mumble through cake crumbs. "It's 2am and we're eating wedding cake in bed."  
And it's perfect.


	17. Queen of Hearts

Sadie grizzles as I tuck her in to bed, a draining day coming to a close a little earlier than usual. We spent the day at the hospital having her pre-surgery testing and she's been poked and prodded, had every hearing assessment under the sun, had her verbal milestones ticked off, and performed like a professional the entire time. Everything we asked, she did. She signed, she spoke, she got the Smarties and jelly beans at the end of each session, and now she's an overtired little ball of cranky coming down from a sugar high. I stroke her forehead the way she likes, leaning over the side of the crib until her eyes droop closed before attempting a quiet exit.  
I often laugh at Amelia and I tip-toeing past her room while she sleeps, knowing she can't hear us anyway. I used to feel terribly guilty when I saw a benefit to my daughter being deaf, but I've moved beyond that since talking to counsellors and people in the deaf community who have no trouble laughing at themselves.   
"Da!" she cries before I get down the hall.   
When I return she's standing and rubbing at tear-filled eyes, grizzling loudly as I approach and she lifts her arms to be picked up. Red-rimmed blue eyes plead with me for comfort, and I know that even her favourite pajamas and stuffy aren't going to cut it tonight. The only thing for it when she's beyond tired like this is snuggling up in my neck. Truthfully I'd use any excuse and I hope she never grows out of finding comfort on mommy or daddy's chest. I know a few parenting 'experts' who would have a field day with the way we do things, and I couldn't give a shit.  
"C'mere, baby girl." I sink into the armchair in the corner of her room and wait for her to take up her usual position -- her face squashed into my neck, her ear on my shoulder, her little hand resting on the side of my throat. "We've had a big few weeks, huh?"  
As soon as I start to speak she settles, the vibration of my voice immediately calming her like a lullaby. Sometimes I sing to her, sometimes I read or tell her a story, on occasion I've even read a script to her. Tonight I recall the last few weeks, from moving house to the wedding and beyond, because crazy doesn't even begin to cover it.  
  
"All right my beautiful flower girl. Remember we went to Disneyland the day after the wedding, all of your cousins were there and all of our friends. It was a beautiful sunny day and I showed you the spot where I saw mommy again after I'd come home from Australia -- I can't believe it was four years ago. That was the moment I knew I was going to marry her, you know. It took me a while to make it happen, but I knew for sure that day that I never wanted to be without her."  
I rub her back and her fingers stroke my shoulder.   
"We had a little trip, your mommy and I, while you spent some time with your grandma and grandpa. They say you were an absolute angel and hardly noticed we were gone. I'll tell you something though, we missed you a lot. On the third night we were in Hawaii I caught mommy crying because she missed you and wanted to come home and I was kinda relieved we were leaving the next day anyway. We love you so much, Sadie-girl. You've changed our lives in the most amazing ways and you will always be my baby girl. Remember that when those boys or girls start asking you on dates, none of that nonsense until you're at least 16, okay?"  
Her eyes are closed but her little hand is still moving against my throat, a little sigh warm on my shoulder when I squeeze her gently.  
"You're gonna have an operation next week, and it might be a bit scary but daddy will be with you when you go to sleep and wake up, I promise. This will be good for you, it will help you hear better and you won't have to wear those pesky hearing aids anymore. So I'll make you a deal. I'll be brave for your mama if you can be brave for me. I know some of the tests hurt you a little bit today and it breaks my heart to do it, but I'd never do that without good reason. You can always count on that, baby girl. You're going to have a nice deep sleep and you might wake up with a bit of a headache but soon you'll be able to hear a little bit more which means you'll be able to talk a bit easier. All we ever want is for you to have every opportunity and be happy."  
I know she's asleep now and I'm kind of glad my sniffling doesn't wake her. It's been a long and emotional day for us all I guess. Placing her gently in the crib I'm careful to not to tuck the covers around her too tight, little munchkin likes to move around a lot in her sleep. Often we see her on the monitor with her little butt right up in the air, or she's turned herself completely back to front or sideways. She stirs a little as I adjust the covers but settles as soon as I lay a hand on her back.  
"I have a secret, but you can't tell mommy I told you." I whisper before I take my hand away from her little body. "You're going to be a big sister."  
  
By the time I emerge Amelia has fallen asleep sitting up on the couch and for a minute I just watch her with a big goofy grin. She's curled into the corner with her knees tucked up toward her chest and her head has fallen to one side, her bra somehow removed from beneath her shirt and discarded beside her. My right hand fingers automatically search for the ring that now resides on my left, spinning it around my finger with an even bigger grin. I still can't get used to the fact that she's my wife, but spending those few days away from it all just finding each other and getting to know each other again -- as Chris and Amelia rather than just parents -- definitely helped. The house feels entirely too quiet after her parents left a few days ago, and it feels like we're still finding our feet being in this huge home just the three of us. That three will be four soon. I knew her boobs were bigger, I kept trying to tell her and she wouldn't believe me but even I was shocked when the blood test suggested she was further along than we calculated and then we found out she was already close to eight weeks. Now at ten weeks she seems to have dodged morning sickness but I've never seen her so tired. She stirs when I knead her shoulders, straightening her head with a groan.  
"Sorry, babe. Did she go down okay?"  
"Yeah, we had a snuggle and a story. How about I take you to bed, too?"  
She scrubs a hand over her face. "You know I hate turning you down..."  
"I meant to sleep, Doc. We've all had a huge day."  
"Oh, good." She laughs. "Not that you couldn't talk me in to it if you wanted to."  
"Nah. We're married now, time to cut back on the sex."  
"Do we have to?" She pouts.  
"Apparently, yeah. It's part of the deal."  
"I'm too tired to argue."  
  
She presses her back against my front and I hold her protectively, circling my hand over the tiny swell of her belly while she falls asleep.   
"I love you, Boston," she murmurs.  
"I love you, too." I kiss the top of her head and feel her relax into me, lying awake for a while listening to her deep breath and the occasional snore she'd never admit to.   
This is so different to when she was pregnant with Sadie, so much more relaxed. We don't have the worries we did then and she isn't having to push herself to the limit with work like before. We're enjoying every minute of this pregnancy and determined to cherish every moment that remains.   
"What if this one is deaf, too?" she asked me last night with tears welling in her eyes.   
"Then we'll deal with it just like we did with Sadie." I shrugged. "We've done ok so far, it can only be easier the second time around."   
I don't feel anywhere near as confident as I sounded, but I've accepted it's something we have no control over. If we have one deaf child or four it doesn't matter to me, and in talking to the counsellors it might even be of benefit to Sadie to have another deaf sibling.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
How the hell can anyone expect a one year old to understand the need to fast before surgery? For a child who is mostly cheerful all day every day, Sadie is really turning on the cranky today, and to be honest I can't blame her. The poor kid is used to eating as soon as she wakes up and can't comprehend why on earth her mom and dad are suddenly withholding food. She's hangry. And to top it off she's picking up the anxiety from both of us and wondering why she's in the hospital in a crinkly gown. There are all sorts of games and screens designed to keep the children occupied but honestly there is nothing that will fix this unless it's edible.   
"Who's going to take her in?" the surgeon asks.  
Amelia and I look at each other. We talked about this at the last appointment, one of us needs to put on a brave face and convince the small child there's absolutely nothing to be afraid of. The same small child who reads facial expressions better than most toddlers, with her anxiety-riddled parents.   
"I will," I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. "Poker face, right?"  
With quivering lips Amelia leans in and plants a gentle kiss on Sadie's cheek, smoothing the hair over the back of her head.  
  
Once I'm all gowned up a nurse in pink spotted scrubs and a cap covered in light blue clouds leads us into the operating room. It's cold, stark, and smells nauseatingly of disinfectant. The blindingly bright lights make Sadie close her eyes and cuddle into my neck, her fingers gripping me nervously. I rub her back and sit where I'm told.  
"It's all right, little one. Daddy's right here."  
I was expecting her to fight, but she happily lays down and looks up at me while they hold the mask on her face. The same nurse sits beside us and makes circles in Sadie's little palm while the gas starts to make her sleepy, her eyes falling closed and her body turning to a dead weight in my arms. It's unnerving, seeing her like that. Her breath is heavy and raspy like an elderly chain smoker and her body is floppy like a lifeless sack of flesh. After laying her delicately on the table I'm reassured one last time that they will take good care of her and I make a quick exit without looking back, because if I do they'll have to physically remove me from the room.  
  
Amelia is waiting on a couch by the window, staring thoughtfully at the trees swaying in the breeze outside. As I approach she turns toward me, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen and her skin so pale I'm taken aback by how weak she looks. How long has she been so drawn and pasty? Is it morning sickness or anxiety? She stands and lets me wrap my arms around her, my face buried for a few seconds in her shoulder while I gather myself and wipe away the tears I managed to hold in until now.   
"Now what?" she asks.  
"Now we wait." I smooth some stray hair behind her ears. "Are you okay?"  
"As much as I can be, yeah."  
She won't admit to feeling unwell but it has to be morning sickness. We're only two hours in before I'm counting the time in bathroom trips instead of watching the clock. It also explains why she won't eat and why she keeps subtly rubbing at her belly, and if she's feeling anywhere near as anxious as I am I can understand her being just a good hiccup away from vomiting.   
  
We wait a bit longer. Another hour passes, with Amelia falling into a light, jerky sleep with her legs curled up and her head in my lap. She frequently grips my leg or jumps in her sleep, and gently stroking her hair in reassurance is a nice distraction from reading a script that isn't sinking in anyway. Either the screenplay itself is terrible or I'm too on edge to concentrate, at this point I'm 30 pages in and can't remember a thing about the lead role.  
  
Another hour. I've given up on reading and started pacing back and forth along the line of windows broken up by huge prints of paediatric patients -- from babies with bandages and feeding tubes and big gummy smiles to teenagers in rehabilitation rooms or wheelchairs. A couple I recognise from previous visits -- when I was all dressed up as a super hero and giving out shields and selfies, rather than an anxious dad waiting for his daughter to come out of surgery -- and I realise it's probably been too long in between. Maybe a better man than me would be giving out some merchandise now, signing autographs and putting smiles on some little faces instead of keeping a cap pulled down and not meeting the eyes of anyone I don't know, but today it would be too much to bear. I love doing it, especially in the Cap suit, but it's so much more emotional when you know what it's like to have a kid who is your absolute everything, everything that's most important to you in such a tiny, fragile package.   
  
For now I just need to be the dad with the racing mind, all of the disastrous 'what-if's going round in my head on repeat like a broken ferris wheel with horribly out of tune music. If it fails, she will never hear another thing. Ever. There's no going back to hearing aids, we've gone bilateral and all in on the assurance from the best surgeons in New York and Massachusetts that it will give her the best outcome despite the higher risk. It has to work. We're at five and a half hours, now. They expected anywhere between four and six because she's so little, but I still worry that something has gone wrong. She's never had anaesthetic before, she could have reacted badly and flat lined on the table. She ate just a few minutes before she had to begin fasting, we could have cut it too close. They could have nicked an artery or cooked her tiny brain with the electrodes...  
  
I scrub a hand over my face and turn to see Amelia ambling stiffly toward me, giving me a strained smile and she lays a hand on my back.  
"Can't be much longer," she says quietly.  
"Yeah. I just keep... getting all stuck in my own head, you know?"  
"I know." She reaches up and strokes gentle circles around my eyes and then kisses my lips, and for a few seconds we're frozen with our foreheads together, both willing the doors to open with good news.  
  
"Would you mind getting me a coffee?" she asks with a yawn as we make our way back to the couch.  
"Sure. You call me if anything happens though?"    
"Of course. I could just yell, you're only going around the corner." She laughs softly but it echoes in the wide space and she covers her mouth like a tween caught giggling at the anatomy books in the school library.  
"Careful, smart ass," I whisper in her ear, "or I'll ask for decaf."  
Her jaw drops in mock horror as I walk away, and this is exactly why we're meant to be together. In less than a minute she's snapped me out of the cycle just by giving me something purposeful to do other than wait. I'd be surprised if she actually wants a coffee at all.  
  
Just as I'm returning she's standing to collect her bag and a nurse takes us into the recovery ward where beds line both sides of a long room. There are cribs that look like cages, a tiny baby being soothed by its mother with plaster covering hips to toes, a couple of older kids talking to their parents or sucking on an ice block. I recognise Doctor Jacob and the anaesthesiologist, whose name escapes me, standing at another metal-sided crib before I see Sadie still sleeping inside. A couple of nurses are hovering around her, rearranging a drip and monitors behind her little head.  
"All went perfectly to plan," Doctor Jacob says. "We'll just let her wake up on her own and then she can go up to her room. No more hearing aids, we'll see you guys in three weeks. One of my team will come and see you tomorrow morning, and then she can go home."  
I want to cry with relief. "Thank you," I croak out as I shake his hand.  
"Will she be in pain?" Amelia asks.  
"She's getting a good dose through the IV for now, but after tomorrow she should only need baby Motrin or Tylenol. If she seems to have a lot of pain you can always call the hospital for advice."  
  
My Sadie is a trooper, but a toddler recovering from surgery was always going to be hell. She had a fairly common reaction to the anaesthetic -- woke up screaming, disoriented, and vomiting -- and then slept the rest of the afternoon on and off, so she was up half the night. As any kid would do she pulled the bandage off her head at 3am and a very patient nurse had to put clean dressings on the wounds behind her ears, then she let us know she'd had enough of the IV in her hand so that came out as well. Poor Amelia refused to go home so I made her get some rest in the other bed while I sat up with Sadie, but today she looks like she might just fall over in a light breeze.   
  
One of the surgeons comes around to discharge us just before lunch time and we are well and truly ready to be out of the bright lights and colourful murals.  
"She's a fiesty one," he says with a laugh. "Give her some medicine when you get home and she'll be out for a while. Give us a call if you need anything."  
  
"The doc was right, she was asleep before I even put her down. Do you want some lunch?" I call out to Amelia from the end of the hall, only to be met with silence. "Doc?"  
I find her on top of our bed with her arms crossed protectively over her belly, so sound asleep she doesn't even stir when I toss a blanket over her and lie down beside her. Again her sleep is fitful, she whines and groans like she's in pain, and each time I soothe her back to sleep. In the back of my mind I make a note to talk properly with her about her fears because she's obviously as anxious as I am and just bottling it all up.   
  
When I wake up the next morning Amelia and Sadie are already up and about, the sweet melody of Incy Wincy Spider leading me to them in the living room. Sadie is copying Amelia's actions and adding a few random signs and relief washes over me when I see the colour has returned to Amelia's cheeks.   
"Good morning," she says from the floor. "I gave her some Tylenol first thing like the doctor suggested, and she's her cheery self like nothing happened."  
"She's tough, like her mama." I scoop Sadie up and blow a raspberry on her tummy just to hear her infectious giggles. "Her mama needs to tell me when she's worried, though. You had nightmares last night, huh?"  
Amelia nods. "I don't really remember them but I woke myself up a couple of times and my belly was hurting. I guess it's stretching and getting ready to pop out."  
"You were just worried about Sadie? Nothing else?"  
She smiles but I know well enough when she's forcing it. "Everything's fine. Look at her, we're so lucky."  
"Are you hoping for a boy or a girl this time?"  
"I honestly don't care. I'm just hoping to enjoy it this time."  
"I'll remind you of that when you can't tie your own shoes or get up off the floor without help."  
She laughs. "I'm counting on it."


	18. Rain Rain Go Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: nightmares, PTSD, anxiety, pregnancy loss, child loss

_Warm sun beats down on two children, running around the back yard with their beloved dogs. Nina and Olly are getting older, their joints stiffened with age, and they find relief on a patch of hot concrete. The Aussies and Dodger chase the children -- big sister leading her wobbly toddler brother by the hand -- until a handsome man diverts their attention with a red squeaky ball. The children don't hear it's wail, of course. But they laugh all the same as a small pack of wagging tails chase it down._   
_My husband. My Chris. Our beautiful children. They're growing so fast._

_Too fast._

_I blink and they're playing basketball before school, laughing as they block and steal the ball. Something is wrong. Awfully, horribly, wrong. I try to tell Chris to let them stay at home, but he dismisses my fears with a kiss and they wave as he drives away._

_A mother knows._

_There's a horror movie on the television, filmed in our suburb. I see our local police, the street where our children go to school. People lined up against the school room windows. I can feel the cold glass and smell the copper-tainted fear all the way over here, in our living room. When I try to change the channel my hands are covered in blood. So much blood. I can't stem it, don't know where it's coming from. Cold steel from an invisible gun presses against my jaw._

_'We'll blow them all to pieces.' The words are the same but the building is wrong. In place of computers and offices there are drawings and number charts, pencils and textbooks. It's all wrong. They're supposed to be safe. He promised they'd be safe._

_Someone is screaming, I feel it in my chest. Everything else is just static and ringing. No sound, I can't hear anything. It's my fault, that they're deaf. It came from their mother._

_Chris. He's here but he won't hear me. He's angry. A quiet, plotting retribution kind of simmering angry, the kind that consumes you from the inside. Where are the children? He carries their backpacks, one in each hand, as though they're full of lead. They're splattered with blood. So much blood. On him, on me, pooling at our feet, but somehow I know it's not ours. Why won't he hear me?_

_"You knew," is all he says. His voice is quiet, like the cut of a sharpened blade, not felt until it's too late._

_"Of course I knew. You wouldn't listen."_

_A mother always knows._

* * *

 

The bathroom tiles are cold and hard on my knees, but they're as real as Chris's soothing hand rubbing my back and holding my hair, as real as the blinding pain in my skull and the dull ache in my belly. I don't know how I got from the bed to here, perhaps he carried me, but when there's nothing left to vomit I'm determined to get back there under my own steam. I stumble a little as I push Chris out of the way in my haste. "Babe, you're scaring me. Where are you going?" "I have to check on the kids... Sadie." "Sadie's fine, she's sleeping. It was just another nightmare." He sighs when I don't stop and just follows me to her room.  
"This one was different."  
In the soft glow of her night light I see her, she looks so small. I watch her chest rise and fall a few times before I tuck her in and go back to bed, where Chris hands me the bottle of migraine tablets and a glass of water. "We had a son," I croak. "In your dream? You were yelling and crying, what happened?" I just shake my head. Even if I could put it in to words, what would be the point? He pulls me into his strong arms, my cheek resting in its usual place on his bicep. Slowly the drugs pull me into a black, dreamless sleep while he rubs my belly, a temporary reprieve from a week of nightmares and frayed nerves.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

I hear him playing with Sadie, talking to her in the kitchen, but it's like they're at the end of a tunnel behind a ringing gong. The room is dark, more so than usual. Chris knows me well enough to draw the heavy curtains and block out the light on days like this, and when I'm feeling better I'll be sure to let him know how much I appreciate him -- I know not everyone can implicitly trust their partner to take care of them like I can. My eyes droop closed despite my best efforts to stay awake, the meds that keep the pain at bay trying to pull me back in to sleep, but then I remember we have a hospital appointment today with my new obstetrician. Gingerly I sit upright and check the clock on the nightstand, smiling at the thoughtfulness of my amazing husband yet again.  
Beside the clock there's a bottle of apple juice, my tablets with a post-it scrawled with 'not before 9am', and my phone with another post-it on the screen: 'call me if you need anything xx'.  
He's just too good to be real.

Steam fills the bathroom as I strip off my clothes, my stomach muscles protesting from last night's vomiting as I sit down to use the toilet. When I wipe there's a tiny spot of pink and I'm reminded of every nightmare I've had for the last week. A second check produces nothing, like my body is taunting me into madness. Maybe I imagined it.

That's what I thought the first time, too. We were at the hospital, the morning of Sadie's surgery, when I saw it. Pink and perfectly round. I was in the bathroom so long Chris thought something was really wrong but I brushed it off as morning sickness so as not to worry him, he was anxious enough as it was. Then the ache started, and I snuck away for a few minutes to call the pregnancy advice line.  
"It can be normal," the midwife I spoke to reassured me. "Lots of women experience some spotting. I wouldn't worry too much but if it keeps up or the pain increases then make an appointment with your care provider."  
It didn't increase. It didn't decrease, either. It's just been there, a constant white noise reminding me of every little pink spot and the threat it brings. Sometimes I worry that I'm not really pregnant, but then my stomach turns inside out at the slightest whiff of anything acidic, or my swollen breasts brush painfully against my shirt, I lay a hand on the swell of my belly and my fears fade away.

As I lather myself in the shower I'm sure the little bump is bigger than yesterday and I can't wait for it to really pop out and be obvious. I know Chris can't, either. He had a meeting with a Broadway theatre company right after we found out and it was all he could do not to spill the beans. Making him wait until the 18 weeks we agreed upon is going to be torture.  
"How are you feeling?" he asks as I'm looking for something to wear.  
"Better. Not good, but better."  
"Why don't we reschedule the OB? Mom can still take Sadie for a while and you can get some rest. You've had nightmares every night, you must be exhausted."  
I shake my head. "I want to see our baby."  
"We already had a scan, it can wait another few days."  
"That was a black jelly bean with a heartbeat. This time there'll be a face and fingers and toes." Chris laughs and opens my towel to kiss my belly. "Ok, then. Sadie and I are ready to go when you are."  
I card my fingers through his hair, I love having it a bit longer and I'll miss it if he has to cut it for the play. "Do you even know how wonderful you are? I appreciate you so so much." "How are you gonna feel if I do this play and you're pregnant with an almost two year old?"  
"We will be absolutely fine. Your mum is right here, and Carly and Shanna will be there if I need them. I want to see you doing what you love again."  
"What I love is you, babe."  
"Yes, but you love acting, too. You love working. This isn't a one or the other deal, you can be a great father and a great actor. You told me something very similar when I went back to work, remember?"  
"Yeah. Ok, ok. I'll call them on the way to the hospital and accept the offer."

With Sadie in Lisa's more-than-capable hands we're on the road. Doctor Makali comes highly recommended, especially since I'm hoping to avoid a caesarian this time, and although we'll have to go to Mass General for the birth I can see her more locally.  
And, as it turns out, she actually runs on schedule. Winning.  
She's friendly but efficient and has already spoken to my doctor from New York, so once she's had a quick chat with us we're ushered into the adjacent room where the sonographer is waiting.  
"You have a little one at home already, yeah?" the younger woman says with a British accent as she squirts gel onto my belly and types some information into the machine.  
"We do, she's one."  
"Nice and close together, then." She smiles and then moves the wand around on my belly, pressing on different places and gradually growing harder until I have to hold my breath.  
Minutes of silence pass with the screen turned away from us, and as the worry that's been eating at my insides grows ravenous and gnashes its nauseating jaws it's all I can do to keep still and breathe. Chris' grip on my trembling hand grows tighter. "Everything's okay, right?"  
Her well-schooled expression doesn't change. "I just need to get some measurements and Doctor Makali will come and have a look."

It starts out like a wisp of smoke I'm not really sure is there, so fine it can only be seen in the right light: the sense that something isn't right. As soon as the doctor returns and quietly closes the door I know without a doubt that everything is awfully, horribly wrong. They converse in only a couple of hushed syllables, pointing at the screen. Neither of their faces show any indication, but I already know. She sits on the edge of the table and takes both of my hands, almost distracting me from the fact that the sonographer is wiping off the gel and putting the wand away.  
"I'm sorry, Amelia. Chris. I'm afraid there's no heartbeat. By the length I would estimate that growth stopped in the last week or two."  
"But..." Chris stammers and wipes his face. "Can you check again? Because at the first scan they said it was good and strong."  
"I promise you we double and triple checked. Unfortunately some times this happens, we don't always know why. Have you had any pain, Amelia? Bleeding?" I look over at Chris with his lip wedged between his teeth, trying not to cry, wishing I could borrow some of his strength.  
"Spotting, yes. And a dull, heavy sort of ache."  
*A mother knows.  
"I don't think you're going to miscarry on your own and I'm a little concerned about infection, I'd like to schedule you for a procedure as soon as possible." She squeezes my hand and then stands up. "I'll give you some privacy, just come back in to my office when you're ready and I can answer any questions you might have."  
As she leaves I pull my shirt down and re-fasten my jeans, sitting up to face Chris as he buries his face in my lap.  
"I'm sorry, Boston. The spotting was so tiny, I called the advice line but they said not to worry." "When?" he asks, sniffling.  
"When Sadie went in for surgery. On and off since."

Chris nods and stands, wrapping me tight in his arms as I cling to his shoulders. Here in the dimly-lit, cold, window-less room, we can almost imagine the outside world doesn't exist. It's just us, drying each other's tears, holding on for dear life.  
"You knew."  
The familiar words send a chill down my spine and make me recoil, folding my arms across my belly.  
"I didn't," I sob. "I thought something might... but it was just a few spots... I didn't want to worry you..." I hang my head and a couple of tears splash onto the floor. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."  
*A mother knows. *I should have listened to my gut.  
"Oh god, Amelia."  
I can't look at Chris. His voice is so quiet and flat I can't read it and my broken heart couldn't take it if he's upset with me. I turn and rest my hands flat on the table, letting my tears fall onto the paper sheets, and then I feel his warmth on my back and his gentle hands on my shoulders.  
"Come here. Look at me."  
I shake my head and he crushes me against his chest.  
"It's not your fault. Telling me wouldn't have changed the outcome. But you don't ever keep things from me. Don't protect me." He buries his face in my hair and whispers. "You never have to carry those worries alone."

The atmosphere at home the rest of the week is fragile, I know Chris feels it too. As though a raised voice might reduce the house and everyone inside to shattered rubble. For the first couple of days after my surgery he confines me to the couch, insisting I do nothing but play with Sadie and watch television if I'm not resting. My body feels deflated back to its non-pregnant state and if I weren't so exhausted I'd be more insistent on getting out of the house.    
Nightmares still plague me, though. Every night.  
  
Mostly I just wake myself up, but tonight the little boy was there again. Our son. I was back in the studios in Sydney, up against the glass, watching my friend bleed to death on the floor... only it wasn't her I saw, it was the same little boy who was playing with Sadie in my other dream. He was signing to me, but I couldn't understand. I feel like on some level I did know that something wasn't right, that I was less blindsided by the miscarriage than Chris, but there's no comfort in that. I was supposed to keep it safe, and somehow my body failed. I lie awake, unable to get back to sleep with the noise of 'what ifs' whirling around in my head.   
  
Chris has his back to me and normally I'd just snuggle in anyway, but it's not enough.    
"Chris? Babe, wake up." I gently shake his shoulder until he grunts.    
"Hm? 'S wrong?"    
"I need a cuddle."  
He turns to face me, his eyes reflecting the dim light, and says two of my favourite words. "Come here."    
I bury my face in the curve of his shoulder until I'm barely getting enough air, just the way I like it. His arms wrap protectively around me and immediately I feel safe and warm.    
"Nightmare?" he asks.    
"Yeah."  
  
We both fall silent for a few minutes but I can tell from his fingertips making circles on my shoulder blade that neither of us are asleep. Finally my mind gets too loud, too busy, and threatens to bubble over.     
"Chris?"    
"Mm?"    
"What if... what if I could have done something?"    
He squeezes me against him. "Don't do that, you heard the doctor. There wasn't anything you could have done, it just happens."    
"I think my dreams are trying to tell me it's my fault."    
I half expect him to laugh. I know how crazy I sound, but I can't keep it in any more.     
"What are you talking about?"    
"The little boy, he was there again. Both times something happened to him and it was my fault. I was pregnant at the wedding, and on our honeymoon. I was drinking, I ate sushi. I did everything wrong!"    
"Babe, listen to me. You didn't do this and you didn't do anything wrong. The doctor explicitly told you it was nothing you did."    
"They don't know that. If that were true they wouldn't tell pregnant women to stay away from particular things. Alcohol is proven to cause birth defects."    
"You drank a little. Not a lot."    
"What if it's not a coincidence that Sadie is deaf and then this happened? Both times I didn't know I was pregnant. I let myself get sick with Sadie even though the doctors warned me... and they wanted to get her out earlier... What if..." I turn my face into the pillow to bury my sobs.    
"Listen to me, this was not your fault. None of it. Where is this coming from?"    
I try more than once to get it out but I keep choking on the words.     
"Just breathe, slow down." He kisses my lips and wipes the tears from my cheeks.     
"Every dream, we have Sadie and a little boy. They're both deaf, they both end up dead, and somehow it's my fault. In the end you know it's my fault. And every time, I know before it happens. Because I knew. I knew something wasn't right and I did nothing."    
"Okay. Clearly we're going around in circles here, so I'm going to say this one last time and then I'm gonna cuddle you until you believe me. Sadie is deaf because we both carry a gene. It is nobody's fault. And this one just happened, again it's nobody's fault. You could have gone to the hospital when you felt something wrong and they'd have told you to wait it out, the result wouldn't be any different. Beating yourself up won't bring it back, and it won't make Sadie be able to hear."  
  
And then he holds me. He tightens his arms when I start to cry, and he keeps me crushed against his safe chest while I stop and then start all over again. The next day we all head out for a picnic in the sun and although I'm not up to running around it's enough just to watch Chris and Sadie play together. As if his face wasn't expressive before, for Sadie he turns it up to eleven but it doesn't ever look like he's trying -- he's just letting it all show on that face I love so much.   
  
That night the dreams are still there, but there's no blood and horror and blame like before. Just hurt. When I wake up crying it's out of heartbreaking sadness and it's almost a relief compared to the shattering guilt of before. I don't know if the little boy is the baby we lost, if maybe we're yet to meet him, or he's just a product of my imagination, but this mother is starting to understand that not everything is under her control. Sometimes the universe has other plans.


	19. Sing a Song of Sixpence

**Chris**

"Are you nervous?" Amelia asks, reaching across to hold my free hand. The other drums away on the steering wheel in time to some unknown beat inside my head, while Sadie quietly observes the passing traffic from the back seat. I glance over at my wife, her booted feet jiggling away and her fingers toying with the seam of her jeans. Today, for the first time in weeks, her pink sweater hugs tight to her waist and hips instead of hiding them beneath something oversized or layered. I wasn't prepared for the knock to her self-confidence after the miscarriage, but it was worse than after Sadie was born. The swelling was gone in a few days but she seemed uncomfortable in her skin, like she'd lost faith in her body. I suppose in a way she probably did. She might be outwardly at ease today, but I know her better than that.    
"Nah." I shake my head and smile at her. What could I possibly be nervous about? How many videos have I watched of children having their cochlear implants switched on? Not so many that it's the ONLY recommendation YouTube has for me, but enough that it makes up 95%. This has to work, it just has to. Sadie's little face is going to light up like Christmas and she'll be talking our ears off in no time. It has to work. She's been so quiet since the surgery. No, I am way beyond nervous. I'm one shallow breath away from full-blown panic.    
"You're such a shit liar."    
"Are *you* nervous?"    
"Fuck yes I'm nervous. God, what if nothing happens?"    
I bring our clasped hands to my lips and kiss her knuckles. "Everything will be fine, babe."    
My eyes catch Sadie's in the mirror and she smiles, showing all six teeth and kicking the end of her seat.     
"It will be fine," I reassure her again. "She's gonna be great."  
  
Sadie walks along between us, her little hand completely engulfed by my loose grip, down endless hospital hallways until we arrive at the right department. I sit down and lift Sadie into my lap but I shouldn't have bothered, she's off like a curious little shot as soon as she can wriggle free. Amelia finds one of her toys from the bag that will at least occupy her enough to stand in front of us for a couple of minutes.  
"It's all gonna be just --"    
"Boston, I swear to god if you say 'fine' one more time..."    
I laugh. "Sorry."    
"Sadie Evans?" the nurse calls, making us both leap up.    
"Doctor time," Amelia sings while signing before taking Sadie's little hand.     
There's a lot of waiting and calibrating and explaining things we've been over a hundred times before we get to actually putting the processors on her ears. With a therapist keeping her attention on farm animals we both watch patiently while they're turned on and the settings are adjusted, searching her face for some sign that they're working. I feel like it's taking forever, she's marching a chicken and a cow around the little table completely oblivious.     
And then she's scrambling up onto my lap, burying her face in my shirt. Her little hands claw and clutch at the fabric like she's frightened.    
"Dial it back a little?" the doctor says.    
Sadie releases my shirt and looks up at me.    
"Did you hear something?" I ask, pointing at my ear. I blink back the tears in my eyes, not wanting her to be scared by my reaction. She sits as still as a stone, her only movement a few blinks, and then her eyes go wide. "Sadie?" I point to my ear again, then to hers.    
She smiles, and she takes my hand and puts it to her ear. I can barely contain my excitement and it must show on my face because her smile gets bigger and bigger until she starts to giggle.   
  
Her face is quickly buried in my shirt again and her bottom lip quivers.  
  
"What happened?" I ask.    
"That's a normal reaction, Chris," the doctor says. "Probably a bit overwhelmed with the sudden onslaught. We'll leave it fairly low for now."    
"Da. Da." Her voice is soft and a frown creases her forehead like she's trying to work out what the sensation of hearing her own voice is. This time when she laughs it doesn't stop and she beams up at me, pointing to her ear again.    
"That is incredible. I'm so proud of you, can you hear daddy?"    
"Ess," she says with an exaggerated nod. Her head whips around when a sob catches in Amelia's throat.     
"Mommy's really happy," I tell her, squeezing Amelia's shoulder.  
"I am, baby," Amelia says as she wipes tears from her cheeks. "Happy mummy."    
'Happy,' Sadie signs. "Mama."    
Another fit of giggles.  
  
By the time we're released she's making a continuous string noises and I wonder how we could have got used to her being so quiet. Slowly after the surgery she sort of stopped talking almost completely, which is normal but not something I ever thought we'd get used to. The drive home is completely at odds with the anxiety from earlier, even though Sadie is sleeping before we exit the car park. It's like everything we've wanted to discuss was put on hold, between the miscarriage and Sadie's implants, and now it's all spilling out. We have decisions to make about Lobby Hero, and Amelia's work, and of course there's the question of more children that neither of us seem ready to ask yet. We haven't talked about the show all that much except for her to insist I'm doing it, although I'm still not convinced. Amelia and I fight so rarely, but the one we had last week could only be described as an emotional atomic bomb. At one point Dodger actually barked at us.  
  
"When do rehearsals start?" she asks when the conversation lulls.     
"Next month. Only during the day, though. I'll be home for dinner."    
She snorts. "I give that a week before you're tired and grumpy."    
Jesus Christ, here we go again... I look over and draw a deep breath to state my argument again, but she's smiling. "What?"    
"I don't want to fight with you, but there's no reason we can't do a week here and a week in New York or something. You can't drive there and back every day."    
"I can, but I'm willing to discuss it."    
"That's an improvement." She laughs. "I'm sorry I yelled at you last time, I just... when you said you were going to pull out because you were worried about leaving me I felt totally incompetent, like you didn't trust me to take care of myself and Sadie, and I know now that's not how you intended it. I wasn't going to let your anxiety get in the way of doing something you really wanted, either."    
I reach over and rest my hand on her thigh. "I'd never say that, or think it. It was about me worrying, not you being incapable. I always intended to stay there for the whole run, maybe I could get an apartment from when rehearsals start. Just stay one or two nights a week when I need to."    
She nods and then lets her head fall back against the seat. "I know she'll always be different, she'll always be deaf, but I feel like this is going to make her life so much easier."  
  
/*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I'm not terrible at learning lines, but I'm not terribly efficient at it, either. It's been a long, long time since I've actually had to have it all in my head, I've been ruined by films where the script changes from day to day and the dialogue is fluid. Fucking up a line within earshot of the writer is the stuff of nightmares. The weeks since Sadie's processors were fitted have passed like a blur, full of laughter and an explosion in her language, a lot of re-placing them when she pulls them off, and I'm pretty sure on occasion she actually takes them off when she just doesn't want to listen to us anymore. Amelia says I probably shouldn't be proud of that, but I am. My feisty little one.  
  
Amelia is sitting up in bed with her iPad, engrossed in whatever she's reading as she combs through the ends of her hair with her fingers. She's fresh from the shower, her hair still damp and only the coconut-scented moisturiser she always uses on her skin. On top she's wearing one of my Pats shirts, and beneath the covers her legs will be bare. I rub a towel over myself while I admire her, hang it up, pull on my shorts, and turn off the bathroom light before she even looks up. It's not so easy to squash the idea that she's lost interest when usually if I stood in the doorway naked she'd be ogling me like a cool drink of water in the desert, especially when we haven't had sex since Sadie's surgery. I'm not pushing it and we haven't talked about it but man, when I know I'm gonna pull back the covers and she'll be lying there in her panties and my shirt...   
"What's so interesting?" I ask, trying not to pay too much attention to those gorgeous bare legs.    
"Just a journal article."    
"What was it about?"    
She cocks her head and smirks. "A double-blind study analysing the impact of molecular iodine on Doxorubicin treatment for mammary cancer."    
I try to keep my expression serious. "Yeah? And how did mollecular iodine affect the efficacy of the Doxorubicin on the canine boobies?"    
My god I love this woman and her crazy laugh. "With daily treatment theraputic outcomes improved and disease-free survival increased by up to 50%," she says between cackles. "And I dare you to say 'affect the efficacy' ten times."    
"I'm just gonna quit while I'm ahead."   
  
She sets it down as I lay my head on the pillow and switches off the beside light. Without a word she lifts my arm and snuggles in to her spot, with her cheek right below my shoulder and her front pressed against my side. Just because we haven't had sex in a while doesn't diminish how much I look forward to this time of day -- it's like a little debrief session with her hair tickling my skin and her forehead in perfect kissing position -- where we take a few quiet minutes to talk without all the other distractions.    
"So, um... the doctor said we could try again after one cycle, whenever we feel ready," she says softly.    
"Do you feel ready?"    
Her silence says more than her words could.    
"There's no rush, babe."    
"How do you feel about it? It's not just my decision."  
  
I scratch at my jaw, remembering the weeks I buried it all because I had to take care of Amelia and Sadie. Amelia would ask me how I was doing, of course. If I wanted to talk about anything, if I was okay, but it was easier to push it down and focus on everyone else. That is until I went to put something in my calendar and saw the due date marked with little pink and blue hearts, and I broke down in the supermarket car park.     
"You lost a baby, too," Amelia said when she found me crying in the shower that night. "You have to let it hurt for a bit."  
  
Since I can remember I've been excited at the prospect of a baby growing in Amelia's belly. I love the glow she gets when she's pregnant, even when she doesn't feel it, the anticipation of making a nursery for a new baby, the first time I feel it moving around in her womb. That wonderful exhilaration hasn't diminished, it's just accompanied by a whole lot of worry that I can't ignore like I used to. We'd only just accepted the idea of another deaf child and come to the conclusion that if it happened we'd at least be well prepared. How to you prepare for the baby to just not be there anymore?  
"Remember when you first told me you were pregnant again? I want that excitement back. The innocence of assuming that two lines on a stick meant we were going to have another baby."    
"Mm. Me too." She shifts up so her breath is on my neck and wraps her arm across my chest. "Both times I've had this moment where I've actually let myself imagine how it will be, where I can kind of see the pregnancy and birth and our children growing up as it flashes past like a movie in my mind, and it gives me the most amazing butterflies in my tummy and my chest gets all tight..." She laughs. "It's like anxiety but warm and fuzzy. Takes my breath away."    
"I guess it's like anything worth having, then. There's a risk. We knew about it before but we did it anyway, right? Statistically the risk of miscarriage after one isn't any higher, so... I don't know."    
"Did you look that up?"    
"You're not the only one who can read a research article, Doc. Do you still want more kids at some point?"    
"Yes," she says without hesitation. "Definitely."    
I don't want to say we aren't getting any younger, but we're not. There's no nice way to bring that one up so it's probably best to keep it to myself if I want to keep my junk in working order. The woman has practiced artificial insemination in animals, I have no doubt she could make it work in our case just to take the fun out of it...    
"Chris?"   
I shudder and push the image away. "Hm?"    
"Do you still?"    
"Absolutely, but it's not my body."    
  
"I love you so much," she whispers into my neck after a long silence. "And I'm sorry I've been a bit distant. Knowing how easily it happens for us kind of put me off, I don't ever want to see that devastation on your face again."    
Propping up on my arm I look down at her and sweep the hair away from her face. "Babe, you don't have to protect me, remember?"    
"I know. I don't think I was really ready, either."    
"We can wait as long as you want. When you're up to it."    
With a firm hand behind my neck she pulls me down until our lips meet, softly at first, and then swipes her tongue across my bottom lip. As the kiss deepens our bodies move closer and then I'm laying on top, pressed against her warmth and nuzzling at her smooth neck.   
  
When I pull back to slow down she looks up at me with her lip between her teeth, her fingertips trailing down my chest. I slide my hand beneath the hem of her shirt, and she takes it the rest of the way and over her head. With my forehead resting on hers I lower my body and sigh as our skin connects, her smooth curves fitting so perfectly against me.    
"I love this, just having you cover me with your body," she says, threading her hands around to skim over my back. "It makes all of my worries fade away."    
I kiss the corner of her mouth. "Mine too."    
While I'm enjoying the sensation and trying not to pressure her she leans up and kisses the side of my neck, rolling her hips against me until a groan rumbles in my throat. After a few minutes she's rubbing slowly up and down on my leg until I feel the moisture seeping through, our mouths and tongues exploring each others while my thumb rolls her nipple. When she whimpers I'm holding on to my last shred of control, and then she takes my hand and puts it right over her heat, still moving against me. I bite her lip gently and she moans as I find her swollen bud through the fabric, grinding herself against me, and I kiss a path down to take her nipple into my mouth and swirl around it with my tongue.   
  
Amelia's sweet moans grow steadily louder and faster, my fingers rubbing in time with her hips as I suck at her nipples. She reaches down and grips my hand, moving it just how she needs and arching her breast further into my mouth as she soaks through her panties. When she's close I pull back a little to watch her skin flush and her body turn rigid as an orgasm washes over her, her nails digging into my hand as she holds it still and her legs shaking around my thigh. There is nothing in this world quite like watching the woman you love overcome with pleasure, her stomach sucking in with her panting breath, her eyes jammed shut, her mouth agape...    
"So hot," I whisper against her belly, leaving kisses over her soft flesh and following the hollow of her navel with my tongue.    
Finally when I'm hovering over her face and about to cover her mouth with mine she opens her eyes, holding my neck with both hands and pulling me into a frantic kiss as she slides her hands down to push my shorts over my hips.  
  
I'm moaning like a two dollar whore from the second she closes her hand around my dick, it's throbbing and leaking and desperate to be inside her. I fumble with her panties and eventually get them to her knees so she can kick them off, moving between her legs and pressing the head of my cock against her soaked folds. From her whines and the way she pulls on my hips I doubt there's any need to go slow, but I love the sensation of her warm, wet cunt gradually taking my length. By the time I'm close to all the way in she's clawing at me and begging for more, which only makes me take things slower. And then my balls are pressed hard up against her heat and I lean down to kiss her, probing her mouth with my tongue as she rocks gently beneath me.     
"Do you want me to pull out, or..." I trail off with a kiss beside her ear.    
"No." She sighs. "I'm ready."  
  
I drop down to lie on top of her again, sliding my arms beneath her back to hold her close and make long strokes in and out of her. When our lips aren't connected we're kissing each other's necks, jaws, ears, whatever patch of skin we can get to, or drawing open-mouthed lungfuls of air to keep from tipping over the edge too soon. Her hardened nipples brush my chest and she grips my shoulders as she cries out an impending orgasm, her walls firing off the first ripples until I have to slow down. As soon as she comes, though, I'm done for. She grips me so hard from the inside and mewls into my ear, all it takes is a couple of shallow rapid thrusts and I'm making animalistic grunts into her hair as I spill into her and collapse.  
  
Long after she's fallen asleep on my chest I'm awake and listening to her deep, even breath. Instinct tells me to protect Amelia and protect myself, to just be happy with what we have rather than risk another loss. I don't know if I'd handle hearing those words again, having a doctor say our baby has no heartbeat when it was supposed to be a happy occasion, or coming to terms with the fact that we were pregnant one day and not the next. But then I remember rubbing Amelia's bump, the first time I felt Sadie kick, and spending those first hours alone with Sadie while Amelia was in recovery, and I have to believe that it will all work out.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I don't know why I ever thought I'd be able to do rehearsals and then just drive back home, it's obviously been a while since I did theatre. We were only three days in when I spent my first night in the apartment and although I miss Amelia and Sadie if I'd kept driving back and forth I'd have ended up killing someone. Now we're trying something different -- Amelia and Sadie stay with me Tuesday to Friday and I drive back to Sudbury on Friday nights. So far it's working pretty well except that I miss them both like crazy even when they're only a few blocks away, clearly I've been out of work for a while. Usually I'm up and in the gym at dawn, then back for a quick breakfast and shower before going out the door again. Sometimes the girls join me for lunch when we have a decent break, but often I'm back at the apartment just in time for Sadie to go to bed. Amelia has been taking all the vitamins, stopped drinking altogether, and is determined to do everything to the letter even though she knows the miscarriage wasn't her fault. Tonight I'm grumpy and cold, it's raining and I'm so late I've not only missed putting Sadie to bed but Amelia has gone to bed, too.  
  
Except when I creep into the bedroom she's grinning like the cat that got the cream, the butter, and the entire cow.  
  
"You're very happy this evening, Doc. Something on your mind?" There are a few ideas whirling around in my head, most of them kinky. She's been so horny she's even outdone me -- on Monday night I fell asleep during phone sex. I married a machine. Now she's lying in bed in a lacy something, so...  
"I do have something on my mind." She reaches down into her top, right between her boobs, and pulls out a familiar-looking white stick with a pink cap. "I'm pregnant."    
I hug her so hard she grunts, and then I kiss her until we're both out of breath. "I love you."    
"I love you, too."    
"You got anything else hiding down there?" I trail a fingertip down the lace edge, peeking down into her cleavage while she laughs.  
"No. I thought about waiting until I'd had the blood test and maybe a sonogram to be sure, but there's just no way I could keep it to myself."    
I stand up and strip off my clothes. "I'd be pissed if you did."    
"That too." She smiles up at me and pulls back the covers. "Get in here."  
  
As my lips pepper her belly with kisses I'm overcome with emotion -- elation, fear, the whole lot -- but within a few minutes it's all forgotten as she straddles my hips and makes love to me. When I'm inside her and she pulls me up so our chests are together, my kiss swallowing her moans, I think I can handle whatever shit life wants to throw my way. But later on when she's laying in my arms I wish I could wrap her in bubble wrap and protect her every minute. The more I realise I can't the further away sleep seems.  
  
I think about the coming months and how she'll manage another pregnancy with a toddler when I'm not around. She won't have a nanny at home -- and I agree with her idea that it's silly when she's surrounded by family -- but I already hate the idea of her driving between New York and Boston on her own with Sadie. I know it's stupid and pregnant women drive and do lots of other normal, mundane, everyday things, but god if she has an accident I'll never forgive myself. What if she gets sick while she's driving and something happens to Sadie, or her blood pressure rises like it did last time and things go wrong when she's home alone? I'm wandering the apartment now, looking out over the city as though the lights will make me sleepy, but the visage is neither calming or sleep-inducing.   
  
I didn't hear her coming but I'm not surprised when her hands rest firmly on my shoulders and her bare front presses into my back, somehow I always know when she's there.    
"You ok?" she asks, her voice muffled by my back.    
"Yeah, just can't sleep. I didn't want to wake you."    
"What are you worrying about?"    
"Nothing." She lets the silence stretch out until I can't take it any longer. "You. The baby. Sadie."    
She steps back a little and rubs her hands over my shoulders and down my back. "Shhhhh babe. It will all work out. I know it."  
  
The following week Amelia calls me on Tuesday afternoon and just the weakness in her voice makes my heart leap into my throat.    
"What's wrong? Are you okay? Is Sadie okay? Is it... is it..."    
"Don't worry, we're all fine. Hold on one sec?"    
Right after the clatter of the phone being set down I hear wretching, and I have to say I'm kind of relieved it's only morning sickness. Although apparently 'only' morning sickness isn't quite right, it goes on and on for half of our short break from rehearsals, and I have time to text mom and get a reply of 'on the way there' before Amelia returns.     
"Sorry," she croaks. "I'm not feeling very well."    
"Oh, babe. I'm sorry. Morning sickness?"    
"That's a stupid name for it when it's 24 hours a day."    
"Mom is on her way, sweetheart."    
"There's no need... for..." She swallows and then blows out a deep breath. "Okay. We're not coming today, babe. I'm sorry."    
"Don't worry about it, you can't drive when you're like this. Wait until you feel better."    
"We'll be there tomorrow."    
I insist there's no rush, not that she has a lot of choice. It quickly becomes evident this pregnancy is going to be very different.  
  
When I get home Friday night she's sleeping and mom threatens me with murder if I wake her, apparently she's had a horrible few days -- far worse than she's been letting on. Mom points me to a basket on the kitchen counter, stocked with an assortment of foods, drinks, and some tiny bottles of essential oil because apparently we have a diffuser now. She hands me a packet of Saltines. "Keep a few of these beside the bed for her to have before she gets up, and a ginger tea or juice wouldn't hurt."    
"Got it."     
"Keep up the ginger, it helps. There are some tablets in here as well but she's quite fond of ginger beer with a wedge of lemon. You might want to talk her into seeing a doctor, Shanna said they have medications that can help when it's this bad. She hasn't kept anything down the last couple of days, I'm worried about dehydration."  
"Thanks, mom." I pull her into a tight hug. "You're amazing."    
"Anytime, sweetheart. Poor Amelia, I only had it this bad once, with your brother. It let up around the half way mark but I was sick all the way through."  
"Hopefully that's a good sign."


	20. Three Little Kittens

Chris is waiting when I pull the car into the garage and I get the impression he's been pacing there for at least ten minutes.     
"Was the drive okay?" he asks, his forehead creased in concern as he kisses me, his bristly moustache tickling my skin. I'll never get used to that thing and I find it hilarious that even though he's spent so much time growing and grooming it, it looks fake.     
I hand him a basket from the passenger side. "It was fine, I sucked on lollies the whole way here and didn't have to pull over once. Your mom is an angel, she even packed me some vomit bags for the trip."    
He laughs. "She's very thorough. I have everything upstairs that you have at home, I figured if you're gonna come regularly I might as well stock up. Ilaria will be here in a couple of hours. Did Sadie go with mom all right? You showed her what to do with the processors and her headbands?"    
"Yes, stop worrying." I silence him with a kiss, but he proceeds to fidget all the way up to the apartment. "Are you anxious about tonight?"    
"No more than usual." He shakes his head and looks down at his feet, as I set my purse down and he takes my bag to the bedroom it clicks.    
"You told Ilaria."    
We agreed we wouldn't share this pregnancy until after the 12 week scan, when we're past the highest risk of another miscarriage. I know Chris isn't great at keeping things to himself, though. His family all know, of course, and I'd need their support if we lost another pregnancy just as I'd need mine, but we're not telling anyone else.  
  
Except his stylist, apparently.    
  
"She needed to know, she's gonna have to hide your bump."    
"What bump?!" I shout, a little louder than I mean to.  0  
"I didn't think you'd want anything tight around the area or putting pressure on your stomach when you've been so sick."    
"And I could have told her that myself, if it was a problem."    
He returns from the bedroom and leans in the doorway. "I'm sorry. She actually... she's pregnant. When she told me it just sort of slipped out that you are, too."    
I laugh and thread my arms around his neck. "You're hopeless, and I love you."    
As we kiss he drags me back into the bedroom, stopping in front of the mirror and standing behind me while he tosses off my shirt. My head falls back as he kisses my neck and his hands slide down my sides and into my jeans, pushing them down off my hips. "If you're not showing yet why are you wearing your fat jeans?"    
"Those aren't my fat jeans." They are, however, quite loose. Loose enough that he's just pushed them off without unfastening anything.     
"You're supposed to be getting gloriously round and curvy, babe," he whispers in my ear as he reaches around to my breasts. "These are definitely getting bigger."    
As he kneads them and pinches my nipples through the lace I feel that awful feeling that's become so familiar the last few weeks. Everything swims and the blood drains from my face so fast I feel it turn cold as I cover my mouth and dart for the bathroom.  
  
Chris just sits behind me on the tiles, a warm cloth in one hand and a cold one in the other. When my stomach is empty he dabs gently at my mouth with the warm one and hands me the other to rest on my forehead and the back of my neck. "Are you okay?"    
"Yeah."    
This is the first trip I've made to visit him since the morning sickness began, the drive just felt too risky with Sadie. At least if I got stuck on the side of the road vomiting on my own I could rest as long as I needed to, but with a toddler there's no stopping for a nap while my stomach stops heaving.     
"What do you want, ginger beer or gatorade?"    
The thought of either is enough to send me back to the bowl, the last round of ginger is still burning my throat on its way back up.     
"It's getting worse, isn't it."    
"I don't know." I shake my head. I want to cry at my own pathetic state, sitting on the cold bathroom floor with a wet cloth on my neck, in my underwear. I take a deep, shaky breath and stand up, pulling my toothbrush from the drawer. "It's good, though. Usually it's a sign of a good, strong pregnancy, and my blood tests have been really high."    
  
After brushing my teeth and making sure there's no trace of vomit in my hair I move back to the bedroom, finding Chris sitting on the side of the bed. I sit astride his thighs and tilt his head up until he looks at me, kissing his lips forcefully before taking his hands and placing them on my swollen boobs. "You're right, they are getting bigger. More sensitive, too."    
Chris hesitantly kneads them while I unfasten and toss away my bra. "You sure you're up to this? I don't want to make you sick."    
"Positive. I need you, babe. We haven't had any alone time in weeks."    
He doesn't need much more convincing, lifting his arms so I can peel off his shirt and then holding me flat against him as he kisses me deeply. The bulge in his jeans rubs against me as I roll my hips and he pulls back to guide me back and forth, his blue eyes burning into me with need.     
"That feel good, baby? You like rubbing on me like this?"    
"Yes," I say breathlessly, tipping my head back as he kisses my neck. "God, yes."    
"You're gonna keep going until you come. Don't stop. Soak those panties right through to my jeans."    
It's been so long since he spoke to me like this that all I can do is moan and grind against him, my movements growing faster as he latches on to my nipple and sucks back hard.    
"Fuck, Chris... yes..."     
His fingers dig right in to my arse and my back arches as I release with a sharp cry, my head falling forward onto his shoulder while I catch my breath.     
"That is so fucking hot."  
  
Chris stands me up and pulls down my panties, dipping his fingers inside me and lapping my essence from the tips. When I kneel to remove his jeans I have to laugh at the soaked leg, tugging them down and off to free his leaking cock. I reach out and stroke it with my hand, licking the precum from the tip without looking away from his intense gaze. Wrapping my lips around his pink shaft I take as much as I dare into my mouth, tracing the veins with my tongue as his fingers thread into my hair and tug my head back. My moan vibrates around his cock and Chris lets his head fall back, my eyes following his adam's apple as he swallows hard in pleasure. When his breath starts to catch he lifts me up onto the bed, laying down behind me and lifting my top leg to guide him between my folds. I can't hold back a moan as he pushes inside, my fingers already rubbing circles on my clit when he begins to move. He thrusts steadily back and forth until I'm close to orgasm and grabbing fistfuls of the sheet, then fucks into me hard and fast until my spasming walls tip him over the edge. Both of our bodies shine with moisture as we lay together in silence, catching our breath and enjoying quiet cuddles and caresses.   
  
The next thing I know Chris is waking me to tell me Ilaria is due in half an hour, and then I'm vomiting up blue gatorade in the shower. The doctor did give me some medication to help with the nausea, but really I don't think it's helping and it makes me so drowsy I worry about taking care of Sadie or driving after taking it. I have, on the really bad days when Lisa has taken Sadie and I can rest for a while, but it's not worth the side effect of sleeping for hours. Putting up with it is starting to get to me, though. Every minute of the day and night I feel like I'm just a hint of odour away from emptying my stomach into the nearest bin, toilet, or garden, and changing Sadie's nappy is enough occasion for a gas mask. I don't know what else to do, just keep pushing through and hope to god it doesn't last beyond the first trimester like Lisa said hers did. All day every day I'm sipping at something — water, electrolyte drinks, ginger beer, lemonade — but I doubt it's keeping me hydrated enough. I don't want to mention to Chris just how crappy I'm feeling because he's been looking forward to this opening for so long, he's so proud of the play and I want nothing more than to be the supportive wife in the front row and on his arm. I just wish I could not feel sick for one night.   
  
I don't often have the time to stand naked in front of a mirror and have a good look at myself — and frankly I wouldn't anyway — but after what Chris said about a bump I need to see for myself. Sure enough, there's a defined swell beneath my casear scar, but what catches me off guard is the visibility of my ribs and hip bones. When I look more closely even my collarbones and shoulders are far more prominent than usual, my cheekbones sharper than I remember, and my eyes sunken and dark.   
  
"Come in, come in," I hear Chris say down the hall. "Amelia's just finishing up in the shower."    
I tug on some underwear and a robe to join them in the living room, where the shock of my appearance is obvious even though Ilaria tries to hide it. "I hear congratulations are in order?"    
She returns my hug. "Thank you, same to you. Chris told me you've been really sick, you poor thing."    
"Yeah, way more than with Sadie."    
"Sally will be here to do your makeup in half an hour, she'll brighten your skin up and no one will know a thing."      
Chris bids us all farewell with a lingering kiss for me, reminding me that Scott will be picking me up and he'll see me after the show.  
  
Ilaria has brought five or six options but disregards a couple immediately, believing they'll be too loose. Instead she hands me a Gucci dress with long sleeves and a short hem that makes me glad I kept my waxing and spray tan appointment yesterday even though I wasn't really up for it. By the time my makeup and hair are done, and I'm accessorised to her satisfaction, I look like a newer, refreshed version of myself. Mum always said we feel better when we look good, so maybe it will help as the night wears on.      
"Take care of yourself, darling," Ilaria says as she's leaving. "At least make sure you're drinking enough."     
"Thanks, hun. You too."    
I'm sure as hell drinking enough, it's just that the vast majority comes right back up.   
  
Scott has always been the calming influence on Chris for this kind of event, and where Chris puts on a brave face and does his best to enjoy it despite being out of his comfort zone, Scott thrives on the charged atmosphere, the excitement and anticipation. Recently he's been put in charge of keeping an eye on me, which Chris insists is the best way to keep him calm.     
"Whatever Chris has told you, I don't need a babysitter," I tell him on the way. "You've done enough 'accompany the pregnant woman' the last few years."    
"Ok, but just in case..." He pulls an airsickness bag from the inside of his suit jacket. "I got you covered."    
I laugh. "Thanks. Are you hot?"    
"Depends who you ask," he says, winking.   
Really I should have known I'd get that response. I fan at my face with my hand, pretty certain that even the sweat-proof makeup Sally used won't withstand much more of this. I can feel the fabric of my dress sticking to my back and legs.  
Scott reaches over and rests the back of his hand on my forehead. "Shit. Hot flash?"    
"Probably."    
This baby has to be a boy, I am one hundred percent convinced. Everything is different from my pregnancy with Sadie, even down to needing to pee every ten minutes and the persistent aches and pains. And now hot flashes to top off the incessant vomiting. Only a little over 2 trimesters to go.  
  
When Chris enters the scene for the first time, my breath catches just like it did the first time I watched 'Snowpiercer'. We've visited him at rehearsals and seen him in costume, but seeing him properly inhabit the character is entirely new. From a few seconds in I'm no longer watching my husband act on a stage, I'm looking in on a snippet of four people's lives. As usual, if Chris is on stage I can't tear my eyes away from him, but that too is a lot to do with Bill's cockiness and the uniform. It's only when Chris winks at me before taking his bow I'm returned to the role of proud and aroused wife, wondering whether he can bring home the costume and how much that moustache might tickle the right places.   
  
As I'm searching the crowd for Chris, Scott appears with a carefully procured champagne glass with sparkling water and a hint of apple juice, thrusting it into my hand. There are waiters circulating with cutesy finger food that looks so delicately arranged it would be intimidating even I wasn't concentrating on keeping my drink down, but I have to keep waving them away for fear of a stray scent of meat sending me charging for the nearest rest room. Which is just behind me, I scoped them all out along the way because that's what I do, now. I'm a person who must always know where the nearest toilet is. Lisa tells me it's good practice for toilet training Sadie.   
  
Finally there's a buzz of activity across the room and I spot Chris and Michael emerging to high-fives and handshakes of congratulations. Blue eyes scan the room and eventually find mine looking back at him, upon which he excuses himself and cuts through the crowd to kiss me.    
"You were fantastic. I loved it."    
"Really?"    
It fascinates me that he can come across so confident and assured but then search my expression for any indication that I'm just placating him with false praise.    
"Yes! I was completely immersed and enthralled."    
I grip his forearms as the floor seems to shift beneath my heels, and then the heat I was feeling in my face is replaced by a rush of cold that leaves me shuddering like I've been doused with a bucket of ice water.     
"Hey. You ok?" he lowers his gaze to mine, his brows furrowed in concern.    
I force a smile. "Mm. Fine. I'll give you my full review later, go have fun."    
He doesn't seem convinced but Trip sweeps him away to meet someone, and as soon as his back is turned I duck into the rest room to lean over the sink.  
  
"Don't vomit," I will my reflection. "Just don't. Not now. Not here."    
I draw a few deep breaths and rub at the increasing ache in my back and slowly the nausea ebbs away. As the party wears on I gradually feel more like I might be coming down with something, with aches and chills plaguing me through every conversation, but I push through. Chris has earned this, the praise being heaped upon him and the celebration of a successful beginning to something new. He was so anxious about getting it right after taking time away to be with Sadie and I'm so proud when people approach me to sing his praises.     
"You wanna get out of here, gorgeous? I could take you somewhere a little more private," his voice is deep and gravelly in my ear and he trails one finger down the back of my neck, wrapping his arms around me from behind.    
"Okay, but we'll have to be back before my husband notices."    
Chris's firm hand squeezes my ass hard enough that I squeak and whip my head around.    
"Well, this is awkward."    
He laughs. "Have I told you how beautiful you are? No one would know you don't feel great."    
"Thanks."    
"Seriously, I'm ready to take you home. I've been officially released from duty."    
"You're sure? I figured you'd want to stay and have a few drinks?"    
"No, I want to take my beautiful wife home for some quality alone time while we have the chance."    
  
With all the sweating I've done since leaving the apartment I'm in desperate need of another shower, and the hot water on my lower back is so heavenly I never want to get out.    
"Babe? Are you getting up to mischief without me?" Chris asks from the doorway.    
I laugh and turn off the water, reaching out for my towel. "No, the water just felt good on my back."    
"I'll wait for you in bed. Naked, in case you were wondering." He winks.    
"Just how I like it."    
  
As I carefully start to smooth moisturiser onto my cheeks I feel dizzy again, this time for a worrying few seconds where I grip the edge of the sink with both hands. When it passes I have the feeling of cold pouring over me and then everything gets a bit dark and slow, I feel my legs buckling but I can't stop them and it's like the entire world is being dimmed.    
"Chris..."  
  
The pain in my back is excruciating, the cold tiles beneath me feel like they're burning my skin, and the few bites of food I attempted are about to exact their revenge. Gentle, shaking hands are stroking my hair and face, my head cradled in a familiar lap. "Yeah, she's awake." His voice seems far away and I take a few moments trying to work out what happened before I try to move.   
"There you are," Chris says softly when I open my eyes, trying to reassure me with a tentative smile. His phone is jammed between his ear and shoulder which makes me wonder how long I've been out. "Are you hurt?"    
I slam a hand over my mouth and shake my head, trying to sit up. Strong hands help me upright and over the toilet, rubbing my back and tieing my hair in a loose ponytail.     
"I think we should go to the hospital," he says when I sit back against him. "There's an ambulance on the way, ok?"     
His voice is so strained with worry that I nod in agreement just to calm him.    
"I'll get you some clothes."  
  
As he helps me dry off and hands me my knickers and jeans we both freeze, a short streak of pink catching our attention as he hangs the white towel.    
I barely keep my legs from buckling a second time and when I open my mouth there's almost no sound. "No. Oh god, no."    
"C'mon," Chris helps me finish getting dressed and then guides me to sit on the bed. "We're gonna meet the EMTs in the lobby."    
"Chris, I... what if..."    
"One thing at a time, Doc. Let's just see what the hospital says and try to stay positive."  
  
I don't really process much of the trip there, I have no idea how we ended up in emergency so quickly, and I don't recall talking to the doctor. Maybe Chris did it for me.     
"Amelia, I know you're scared about the baby but we have to get your temperature down. We're going to give you some medicine to help, it's completely safe. Then we'll take some blood and urine, ok?"    
I nod and look up at Chris, our hands are still clasped together but I don't know who is holding on tighter. "What's my temp?"    
"One oh four. The doc thinks you have an infection."    
My brain tries to calculate the conversion to Celsius. Funny that I still recall the thresholds for animals, though. "That's not a bad fever, is it?"    
"Yes, babe. Normal is around ninety-eight."    
"Oh. But the baby... I need an ultrasound."    
The doctor chimes in from the end of the bed. "We'll get to that, I promise. We need to take care of you first but I've already asked for obstetrics to come and see you. Do you have any pain at the moment?"    
"Yeah, my back." I roll over to show him and he presses his thumbs either side of my spine, making me cry out in pain and reach for the basin beside me.     
"I'm sorry, I won't do that again," he says as Chris wipes my face with a wet cloth and a nurse takes the basin away. "You have a kidney infection and I suspect you're severely dehydrated. Your husband says you haven't been able to keep anything down, even water?"    
I nod.     
He gives some instructions to one of the nurses and writes something in my chart. "We're getting that medicine going right into your bloodstream, you should feel better in a little while and I've added something for the nausea. Try to get some rest."    
Yeah, right.   
  
I take a long, deep breath as they leave to order tests, leaving us alone for the first time. When I see the tears in Chris's eyes my own start to flow down my cheeks.     
"Shhh," he says softly, wiping them away. "I'm so sorry, I shoulda been taking better care of you."    
"No. If it can't be my fault it can't be yours, either."    
"I had no idea you weren't even keeping water down."    
"I just wanted this one night for you. I'm so proud of you and while I was watching you it took my mind off it all, you were so brilliant. When I felt hot I just thought it was hormones."    
"Close your eyes, baby. Rest a bit."    
He keeps our fingers entwined and rests his forehead on my shoulder, humming very quietly. I can't sleep, my mind is racing with fear that it's happening all over again.   
  
But the next thing I know Chris is shaking me gently and a familiar doctor is looking at my chart.     
"When I saw a consult come through for Dr Amelia Evans I had to take it myself," Dr Perkins says. "You're not feeling so crash hot, huh?"    
"No." My lip quivers and I bite down to steady it. "I had a miscarriage a few months ago. I think it's happening again."    
"It's okay, I'll do a sonogram shortly and we'll have a look. Are you bleeding?"    
"A tiny bit. Pink," I say to answer her next question. "I don't have any pain except my kidneys, it's worse on the right. I've been really, really sick but I thought that was a good sign."    
"It can be," she says with a smile, patting my leg. "You haven't had any scans yet? Bloods?"    
"No scan but I had bloods every couple of weeks for a while and the beta level was steadily rising."    
"Okay. The bloods they did earlier it's extremely high, which would explain the nausea. It's common for high levels to coincide with severe morning sickness. Hyperemesis Gravidarum we call it." She moves to the door and opens it, smiling at me as she wheels in the ultrasound machine. "You're not going to hear anything I say until I've done the sonogram, are you?"    
"Probably not."    
The setting up seems to take forever but she finally gets the gel onto my belly. "You've lost weight?"    
"A bit, yeah."    
She nods and stills the transducer, looking me in the eye with a sympathetic smile. "I have to warn you first, if you are miscarrying again there's really nothing we can do at this gestation. Even though you're in a hospital there's often no explanation or treatment, nature just has to take its course." Her warm hand lays over mine. "Are you ready?"    
"Yep."    
  
All doctors must go to the same 'give nothing away' school of facial expressions. While I'm sure she's trying to get us an answer either way as quickly as possible she squints and stares and blinks at the screen for a long, long time. When I glance at Chris he's not even watching, he has our hands against his lips and his eyes down.    
"Amelia, Chris," she says finally. "As far as I can tell everything is just fine. On this machine I can't play sound or print you nice pictures, but what I can see is a healthy pregnancy. The bleeding could actually have come from your kidney, looking at your test results you've got a pretty serious infection. You should feel a whole lot better once those antibiotics kick in and you're hydrated. Sometimes if you're vomiting a lot it can irritate the cervix as well, burst blood vessels and give you some spotting. But it's normal, and everything is good in there."    
"Oh, thank god." Chris kisses my lips and rests his forehead on mine.     
I can't even form words, I was so prepared for her to say there was no heartbeat that I haven't processed anything she's said.  
  
"Let me show you," she says with a smile, turning the screen so we can see. It's all black and white but I've read enough ultrasounds to be able to distinguish my uterus and the placenta, the little flicker of the baby's heart. "You see the heartbeat?" I nod but she points it out for Chris, and then moves the transducer a little to one side, and my own heart stops...  
  
"And do you see _that_ heartbeat?"    
    
Chris squints at the screen, turning his head to one side. "Is... is that another..."    
"Twins," I whisper.   
"Twins," the doctor says with a nod. "Big sister Sadie is gonna have her hands full!"    
And then, because I don't know what else to do, I cry. Ugly cry. Loud sobs and big fat tears, snot, the works. Logical thought has checked out and my emotions are so overloaded I erupt like a pregnant, watery volcano.   
  
"Sorry," I blurt out through hiccoughing sobs a little while later. "I'm... happy, they're happy te... tears."    
Chris chuckles and rubs my back. "I can't believe it. Twins. We're having two babies. Is that... it's safe, right?"    
Dr Perkins smiles. "It has risks, but they'll be closely monitored. I'll send a report back to Mass General for you and I'm going to give you some wafers that should help with the nausea when you're released from here. If not, mention it to your OB back at home because there are other options. We need you to stay hydrated."    
I look again at the tiny dancing heartbeats like fairy lights on the screen. "Only one placenta, though?"    
"Yeah, two sacs. You know what that means?"    
"They're identical."    
Chris squeaks and his jaw drops. I imagine he used to look like that every Christmas morning. "That is so cool. So cool. Oh my god."    
"You'll be here for a couple of days at least, so I'll organise a better scan for tomorrow."    
"I have to get back to Sadie."    
"Mom will take good care of her, you need to get better."    
"You'll be out of here as soon as possible, I promise. I think we can even get you a private room in maternity if you'd like. It's pretty quiet up there."    
"That would be amazing."    
"I'll go talk to the other doctor. Please try to rest, your body needs it." She pushes the machine out the door but stops before closing it. "Oh, and congratulations."  
  
Every five minutes Chris reminds me I should be sleeping, and then resumes the excited nattering away in my ear about double strollers and cribs and matching outfits with different hats or socks so we can tell them apart. I share his enthusiasm in a quieter sense, my body exhausted and the added painkillers making me sleepy, but there's no way I'd rather fall asleep than with his voice whispering away beside my ear. 

 


	21. Upstairs Downstairs

**Chris**

  
"Hey, Ma. How's Sadie?" I jam the phone between my ear and shoulder and fill a glass with water.    
"Oh, Chris. She's just beautiful. Slept all night, she's eating her breakfast now. Did you have a good night?"    
"Yep," is all I can manage before the tears start to flow. I gasp in a quick breath but the words just don't want to come out.    
"Jesus, what's wrong? Is Amelia okay?"    
"Yeah," I whisper shakily, "everything's fine."    
"What's going on then, sweetheart? Why are you upset?"    
The sound that comes out is half sob, half laugh. "It's um... it's twins, Ma. We're having twins."    
"Oh my god!"    
"Yeah... Amelia was really sick. She passed out in the bathroom," I bite down on my lip to steady it but more tears roll down my cheeks, "I thought I was gonna lose her."    
I doubt I will ever forget finding her on the floor, cold and wet and lifeless. If I have to watch her twenty four hours a day for the rest of my life it will be worth it if it prevents a repeat.     
"Oh, honey. What can I do? Where is she now?"    
I plug the charger in to my phone and lie back on the bed, toeing my shoes off onto the floor. "She's in the hospital... she's gonna be okay but she has a kidney infection and dehydration so she'll be a couple of days. Mom, can you have Sadie a little longer?"    
"Of course, you don't even have to ask. Do you want me to bring her there?"    
"I think it might be best if I bring Amelia back home and she rests for a bit."    
"I just want to give you a big hug. Both of you. Can I talk to her?"    
"I've just been ordered home for some sleep but I'll call you later and you can."  
  
As soon as the call ends I let the phone fall from my hand and close my eyes. I should change my clothes, I smell like a hospital and likely have vomit on me, but there's not even a word for this level of exhaustion. And yet, my mouth still curls into a smile when the words play over again in my head:     
*Identical twins*  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Honestly I thought I'd done enough training and preparation that I wouldn't be this worn out, but at the end of the first month I'm not even all that confident I should be making the drive back to Sudbury. I need to see my girls, though. That thought is enough to thoroughly wake me up, helped a little by the two black coffees before I left. Amelia had to have the first big scan without me but she did send me the entire video and it's just incredible to see two babies sharing her womb. We're going to tell Sadie together tomorrow and I can't wait.    
Shit, I hope she doesn't ask how we made them.     
  
Amelia insisted I didn't miss a show, but she did spend another couple of days in the apartment until she was well enough to make the drive back. The medication they gave her has settled most of the sickness, as long as she avoids certain foods and smells, and she's far more careful to stay hydrated. I questioned whether I should just pack it in and go home, but she's soldiering on with mom and Carly's help and seems to be enjoying it a little more now that she isn't vomiting every crumb back up. God, I miss them so much. Two days off is a rare treat and the temptation to speed almost gets the better of me, I just want to get there and hold my girls.   
  
When I pull in Amelia is waiting at the door, and I'm absolutely blown away. It's late -- so late I thought she'd already be asleep -- and she has her hair piled on top of her head with rogue golden locks framing her noticeably rounder face. Its completely bare but her skin has it's glow back, her eyes are shining instead of sunken and dull, her jutting cheekbones have softened. She's wearing my shirt with a pair of shorts peeking out the bottom, rubbing her eyes like she's just woken up but smiling like the kid who caught Santa on Christmas Eve. I think this so often it's probably losing all meaning, but she's never been more beautiful. I'm not even out of the car before she's on me, with her arms around my neck and her face pressed into my chest.     
"I missed you so much," she says, her voice muffled by my shirt.     
"Mm. Me too, babe. It's so good to be home." I hold her back at arm's length and she pulls the shirt down, trying to cover herself, smoothing her hair back. "Amelia, you're seriously glowing. You look amazing."    
She laughs and takes my hand. "Come to bed."  
  
Most of the time if we've been apart we're at it like rabbits within a few minutes, but I guess things change when you're married with a toddler and twins on the way. I'm so exhausted I don't know if my dick would cooperate anyway. But she's laying in bed and I can't help exposing her belly to kiss it.     
"Holy shit it's huge!"    
"Yeah," she laughs, "remember the cute little bump I had? We are not gonna be able to hide this any longer."    
The plan to wait until twenty weeks has certainly just gone out the window, she honestly looks like someone put a watermelon in there. Sideways. I rub gently over her tight skin, over the deep pink scar, the silvery faded stretch lines like claws scratching out from her belly button.     
"Hey you two, I'm your daddy. I know I haven't been around much but I will be, don't you worry. Until then, behave and take care of mommy, okay? No more making her sick. I can not wait to meet you, little guys. Your big sister is gonna be pretty excited, too."    
I place a few light kisses around her belly and then lie on the pillow, pulling her onto my chest. "How are you feeling, really?"    
"Pretty good. Most of the time I don't feel sick any more and I'm not as tired as I was. They did bloods the other day and my kidney function and inflammation markers are back to normal so I'm fully recovered."    
"You're amazing and I love you."    
"I love you, too."    
"I can't keep my eyes open any more."    
She reaches over and switches off the light. "Go to sleep, then. I've missed having you hold me all night."    
"Me too," I mumble.  
  
God damn I've missed this, waking up with my beautiful wife in my arms. It's early, Sadie's room is still dark and I can see her curled up and sleeping on the monitor. Weak sunlight filters through the sheer curtains in our room, the occasional bird making the only sound.    
Except for the chainsaw... no, wait. That's my wife snoring.    
I gently rub her back and kiss her exposed shoulder, but she doesn't stir. Only after a less gentle squeeze does she wake for a couple of breaths, long enough to rub her ass against me, and then go right back to snoring. I can't help but giggle, which rapidly turns into full on laughter the more I try to cover it.     
"What's so funny?" she grumbles, tugging the covers over her shoulder.     
"Nothing, babe. You're gorgeous."    
"Was I snoring or did I fart on your leg?"    
"You were snoring, it was so cute."    
"Was not."    
I snake my hand beneath her shirt to rub her belly and she sighs, rubbing her ass against me again. "I missed you."    
"Mmm... I missed you, too."     
She takes my hand and guides it to her breast, a whimper escaping her lips when I knead and tweak her nipple. Her palm rubs over the erection straining through my shorts and I brush her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck.     
"Remember when we could just spend hours on foreplay and have that nice lazy morning sex?" she whispers, turning her head to kiss me.    
"Mm I remember it well."    
Abruptly she sits up and tugs the shirt over her head, discarding it and her knickers on the floor. "We don't have that luxury any more." She laughs and does the same with my shorts, tugging them off and tossing them on the same pile before lying back down with her back to me. "Where were we?"    
"About here." I curl my body around hers, warm skin on warm skin, hard cock between soft thighs. She angles her hips so my tip slips into her wetness, parting her folds as I groan. "Damn, so wet already."    
Amelia moans and grinds into me, pushing my cock inside. I roll my hips forward, slowly gliding all the way in, and still for a few beats to run my hands over her front.   
  
*Fuck*. I wanted to go slow and savour this, we always had the most amazing slow sex in the early dawn hours. There's an exposed intimacy about it, where neither of us can hide in the dark and the rising sun lays bare every inch of skin and with it the deepest of emotions. But her heat, her slick folds, the curves of her ass and swollen breasts, the whines of urgency every time I withdraw... Damn, she makes me want to hold those tits with both hands and slam home until I explode, and I know I could cum in less than five thrusts. The desire to rut into her like a teenage stud is almost overwhelming, because as much as I've worried over her being so sick, worried about the implications of a twin pregnancy, and just missed being in her presence, I'm not ashamed to admit that I've missed *this*. Being inside her, tasting her on my tongue, the unique scent of her arousal... it's like an addictive drug and I'm a high functioning junkie.     
"Don't stop," she groans, "fuck, you feel so fucking *good*."    
What is it about my articulate, well-mannered, highly intelligent wife cursing in bed that gets me so worked up?    
I reach between her legs and start to press my fingers against her engorged bud, dragging my teeth over her neck. She laughs and jams her shoulder up toward her cheek, almost pinning me between them.     
"That god-damned moustache!" She cackles and flails her arms. "Keep it away from my neck, it tickles!"    
I laugh and half-heartedly apologise as I turn her head and claim her mouth, rubbing my fingers in circles on her clit until her giggles turn to moans. She bucks between my hand and my hips but I continue the slow pace until her climax breaks and leaves her shuddering in my arms.   
  
My thrusts are slow and smooth, relishing the way her walls squeeze my cock in the final throes of orgasm while trying not to let them tip me over the edge. Just a couple of good, hard pushes and I'd be painting her with a fucking river of cum, it's been way too long. I grit my teeth and hold off, drag myself from her and shift down her body until my mouth is so close to her delicious, swollen pussy I can already taste her. I blow gently and the sound from her throat is a raw mixture of laugh, sob, and desperate whine. Her hands find my hair as I ease two fingers inside and then she's pulling me in, forcing my lips to hers. I curl my fingers inside in time with circles of my tongue, until the only sound I hear from Amelia is tiny, panting breaths, and then I seal my mouth around her and suck back on her clit while I stroke from the inside -- once, twice, three times and her walls clamp down hard on my fingers, her back arching with a satisfied grunt and a hoarse "yes". My tongue makes long strokes between her folds, lapping up her spilled juices until she guides me away and pushes me to my back.    
"Fuck... no one ever made me come like you do."    
"That why you put a ring on it, babe?"  
  
She smiles and nods as she straddles me, sinking down my length. As soon as she starts to move I'm gone, all resolve and control is released.     
"Not too fast," I whisper, guiding her hips.     
Amelia continues rolling back and forth with a steady pace, whimpering when my head presses deep into the spongy spot inside. Shallower now, and faster, bracing herself on my chest as she approaches another climax. I want to hold on and feel those heavenly contractions on my cock again, but it's too much too fast and I cry out as I spill and lose myself in her.   
  
When my senses return she's laying over me, kissing me slow and deep. I couldn't say whether we came together but there's a steady dribble of combined juices down my balls and she has that glassy-eyed look so it's a safe bet. With one last smack of her lips she rolls off and lays her head on my chest, her fingers delicately toying with the hair down my breastbone. I fight the urge to close my eyes and let the warm afterglow lull me into sleep, but her touch is like a tranquiliser and before I can even tell her how I love her I'm out.   
  
The next thing I know harsh daylight fills the room and the sound of Amelia and Sadie in the kitchen carries like a sweet melody to my ears. Sadie has had intensive speech therapy since the implants and her language has come so far in such a short space of time she's miles ahead for her age. Amelia tells me that's a good thing, that communication is vital at her age and will help minimise her frustration with not being able to hear as clearly as her peers, so the plan is to continue it until she begins school. That used to feel so far away, but now she's two and growing up so fast it's like every time I blink there's something new. I don't want to be away from them any more. Right now they're actually holding a conversation that I didn't know was possible.   
  
"Sadie, yogurt or banana?" Amelia says as I watch from the doorway, signing each word as she does.    
"'nana," she says excitedly, pointing at the fruit bowl.     
"Banana?" Amelia signs again.    
"'nana," Sadie repeats, signing. "Want 'nana please."    
"My clever girl!"    
Sadie turns and then leaps down from the chair, running toward me. "Daddy!"    
"Hey, sweetheart." She snuggles into my neck. "Daddy missed you so much."    
After a few seconds she pulls back and looks up at my face with a frown, her little fingers tugging at my moustache. "Take off, daddy. Take off."    
I throw my head back and laugh out loud. "I can't, that's daddy's hair. See?" I pull at it and she does the same, so hard my eyes water. "Ouch!"    
Apparently that is hilariously funny, and I might be biased but my little girl has the single most gorgeous, infectious laugh in the world. It's a lot like her mother's.   
  
The rest of the day Sadie doesn't let me out of her sight. If I leave the room it's only moments before her footsteps are behind me, inquisitive eyes peeking in at what I'm doing, little fingers making signs. There's a tantrum when I want to use the bathroom and another when she has to have a nap, I can only assume she's worried I'll leave again while she's asleep. I take her to the huge, soft recliner in the corner, where the afternoon warmth floods in and never fails to make me sleepy and content. She curls up in my lap, facing me and wrapping her arms around my neck, and places a wet kiss on my cheek before she lays her head down on my chest. The plan was just to get her to sleep and then transfer her to bed, but I doubt anyone is surprised that my eyes are heavy in less than a minute. When Amelia's chuckle and the sound of her phone taking pictures wakes me I understand why she grumbled at me earlier this morning.    
"That is the cutest thing ever."    
I rub my face with my free hand. "How long was I out?"    
"Almost an hour. She'll be waking up shortly, you might as well stay there and enjoy it. Sleepy cuddles are the best."    
They are, and I planned on just waiting for her to wake up but the next thing I know her little fingers are playing with my moustache. When I shake my head and open my eyes she jumps and then explodes in to giggles.     
"Daddy sleep?" she says when I close my eyes. Silence, except for her little breaths, and then a rapid open palm on my forehead. "Wake up, daddy!"    
I crush her against my chest and tickle her neck, making her laugh louder until we're both out of breath and Amelia appears.     
"Good sleep?" she asks.     
Sadie nods, and Amelia tilts her head at me. Apparently now is the time.     
"Sadie," I tap her arm and wait for her to look at me, "have you seen mommy's tummy?"    
Amelia stands next to us and takes Sadie's hand, rubbing it over the swell of her belly. Sadie giggles and then looks down at her own.     
"There are two babies in there," Amelia says. "One here," she rests Sadie's hand on one side and then shifts it to the other, "and one here."    
"You're going to be a big sister."    
Sadie frowns and lifts her shirt. "I have babies too?"    
"No," Amelia smiles, "only grown-ups can have babies."    
She scrambles from my lap and takes off toward her room, leaving us both kind of stunned.     
"Did that go ok?"    
Amelia shrugs and giggles. "I think so. Is she coming back?"    
There's the rumble of running toddler and she returns with two teddy bears proudly stuffed beneath her shirt. "Sadie babies too!" She lifts Amelia's shirt. "Get babies out?"    
"Not yet, bub," Amelia laughs, "they have to grow for a while. Mummy's belly will get bigger and bigger as the twins get bigger and when they're finished growing and ready to be born they'll come out."    
"How?"    
"Uh... well..."    
Neither of us mind when we're distracted by the door bell and Sadie goes charging off the answer it. Yes, I should tell my daughter the truth about where babies come from, without any embellishment of cabbage patches or storks, but not for a couple of years at least. For now she's happily distracted by my mom until dinner. Can I just keep diverting her attention until she's eighteen or so?  
  
That night when I peek in on Amelia after my shower the scene is not at all what I was expecting, she has the calendar, her diary, her phone, and an assortment of pens and markers spread out on the bed. With her legs crossed beneath her and my shirt already starting to stretch over her swollen breasts and belly it's not going to be easy to focus on anything serious.     
"What's all this?"    
Her eyes follow me around the bed as she twists her hair up and fastens it with an elastic. "I've had to accept the fact that I might not be able to take care of Sadie on my own for this entire pregnancy. Maybe I will, but I don't want to get caught out and have you worrying about me when you're working."    
"Yeah, about that... I'm gonna pull out of the second film, it's cutting too close to your due date."    
She's frowning. Oh god, here we go. "No, you've been looking forward to it for months. You're doing it, I won't let you pull out."    
"Babe, I don't want to be on set in Canada and get the news that my babies are being born. There's no way I'll make it back in time."    
"Then I'll cross my legs until you're home."    
I sigh as I sink onto the bed, making a pile of markers slide into my leg. "Mom is happy to help with anything you need, but I don't want to risk being away if you get sick or go in to labour early."  
"Look," she flips the calendar over to October, then back to August, "there's almost eight weeks in between."    
"You're counting up to the original due date, not thirty eight weeks when the twins will be born."    
The 'caught red handed' smirk on her face says it all. "Six weeks, then. Heaps of time."    
"Let me think about it."    
"Okay. Would it help if I agreed to discuss a nanny again? I guess if we're going to do it then now would be a good time, we'll have to find someone who can sign."    
My hand covers hers gently, I know it's difficult for her to accept help and this is a decision we've tossed around since Sadie was born. "I think that's a good idea."    
"I can't keep monopolising Lisa, she has other grandchildren. I still hope that everything will go smoothly but even if it does, those first week with two babies are going to be tough."  
"I'm happy you're at least thinking about it."    
"Being that sick was a bit of a wake up call, I have to take care of myself better. I feel better, but I have Sadie to worry about this time, I have to do all I can to stay well."    
"I'm proud of you, babe. I know taking it easy isn't really your thing." I look at the calendar and streaks of purple marker catch my eye. "What's this?"    
"They're the days Sadie and I will be in New York with you."    
If I didn't think she'd hit me I'd slap my forehead. "Amelia..."    
"Hear me out. It's only every second week, we won't even be there for the final show. That's your night to go out and have fun." She flips to the next month. "You come home, have a couple of weeks before you go to Atlanta. We'll visit for five days here, around the middle. I'm not promising we'll visit in Canada but we'll see."    
  
I'd feel a lot better if she'd just stay at home and do nothing, but that isn't Amelia's style and I have to admit she's cut back a lot more than I expected without a fight. There's none of the pressure of last time, but it's all unknown again now that here's two babies.     
"I still can't believe it," she says when we're laying in the dark and my hand rests on her belly. "There's two babies. We're going to have two identical babies."    
I laugh. "Life likes to throw us the unexpected, huh? We weren't at all prepared for Sadie, and then when we thought we knew what we were doing we get twins." Pulling her tight against me, I kiss her forehead and she lays her head on my chest. "We got this, Doc."  
  
The next morning when I wake up Sadie is already awake so I creep out of the bedroom and let Amelia sleep in. Sadie sat on the bench and helped me mix up some pancakes and then did her own 'cooking' with some playdough on the bench while I cooked them. I can not believe how much she's changing, she's going to be so much more grown up when the twins arrive.  
  
By the time the last pancake is cooked I hear the shower running and a few minutes later Amelia joins us for breakfast. Sadie knows I'm leaving again today and she's never been so clingy toward me, even insisting on showering with me. She enthusiastically helps pack my bag but when the time comes for me to get in the car she breaks my heart.    
"Nooooo! Stay daddy. Want daddy!" She struggles against Amelia's grip as I start the engine.     
"We'll go see daddy next week," Amelia tries to placate her.     
"Go with daddy!" Sadie wails.    
I open the door and give them both one last hug and kiss. "Be good for mama, okay? Daddy loves you and I'll see you soon."    
And then Amelia has to pry her little fingers from my shirt. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes but I'm trying to keep a brave face for both of them.     
"You're gonna have to just go, she'll be fine in a few minutes," Amelia says quietly.   
  
Driving away, hearing her cry fade into the suburban street, is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.   
  
Sure enough, half an hour later I get a text with a photo of Sadie and Olly -- Amelia's cocker spaniel -- curled up together on the couch watching that creepy Iggle Piggle show where they talk in squeaks and names and the beds run away from them. I don't know what it is about that ridiculous program but it's like kiddy crack. Even the dog looks like he's dying inside but can't look away.   
  
Amelia's dogs are getting to that age where they'd prefer to be cuddled up inside with Sadie than play with the younger ones. They weren't young when I met her and it took them both a long time to adjust after the trip over here into a much colder climate. The thought makes me slap my forehead in frustration -- she had to have a couple of spots removed from Olly's skin this week and amongst everything else I forgot to ask how it went.    
[How did Olly go at the vet?] I text back when I arrive at the apartment to get ready for the theatre.     
[Waiting for pathology but he's fine, confident it was early and the margins were good.]    
[That's good. I love you xxx]    
[Break a leg, Boston. Love you too xxx]  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I never thought I'd be combining film promotion with raising awareness of congenital deafness, but here we are. Sadie is a natural, sitting on the GMA couch with me and charming everyone she meets. She proudly shows off her ability to sign by saying hi to all of the viewers, answers a couple of questions, and we talk about the decision to have two cochlear implants instead of one before a little spiel about the Society for Deaf Children we've recently become associated with. When they asked if Sadie might be able to introduce the trailer for Avengers: Infinity War I was a bit skeptical -- especially since we had trouble even finding a sign for Avengers and it's a bit long for her to spell out reliably -- but she's done a beautiful job and I'm so proud of her my eyes are a little wet.  
  
The plan from here on was for Sadie to get bored and wander off to Amelia, who's waiting well away from the cameras. Unfortunately Sadie instead has decided that mommy needs to come sit on the couch, too, and no amount of persuading is going to prevent an epic tantrum. Amelia cringes at me.    
"Sorry mommy, I think you're gonna have to join us."    
The cringe turns to something more homocidal until she's in the shot, where she puts on a beaming smile and Sadie drags her across to me. There's no problem with her being camera-ready, she literally looks radiant and she was dressed to meet fans outside anyway, but there is now a pregnancy-bump elephant in the room. Robin shoots me a look and I nod, at least we discussed this before the show.    
"Good morning, Amelia," Robin says, "you look well."    
Amelia laughs and tucks her hair back nervously. "Thank you."    
"Let's just address the bump, shall we?" I say as she sits beside me.    
"You have some news for us, Chris?" Robin doesn't even bother faking surprise.    
"Yeah, actually. We are," I lay my hand on Amelia's belly and lock eyes with her, "quite obviously, expecting again."    
And again. I keep that one to myself but Amelia's smirk tells me she's thinking the same.     
"Congratulations," Robin gushes. "So, about the film..."  
  
"Does it feel strange, watching the others do the press without you?" she asks that night after I've crept in to bed.    
"Yeah, but not in a bad way. There's always fun but I hate doing it, I was kind of relieved when Marvel couldn't push me to do more than a couple of appearances this time. I'd much prefer being on the stage working than talking about what a great job I did on this film I know nothing about. Does Captain America survive? Shit, I don't know."    
"I kind of can't wait to see it. When we met I couldn't care less but I feel like I'm invested now, I need to know what happens. And I so loved that look on you, with the long hair and full beard." She bites her lip.    
"What? More than this box-head and porn mow?" I nuzzle into her neck and she dissolves into giggles and thrashing limbs as I tickle her.     
"No! Stop! You're gonna make me pee!"    
I pull back and look down at her. "Really?"    
"No, but it made you stop." She giggles. "I have a surprise for you before we go home."    
"What's that?"    
"Doctor Perkins is going to do the next scan while we're here so you can be there, and we can find out the sex if you want."    
I hated missing the last one, and the one I missed with Sadie. It always felt like something I should be present for, and even more so after what we've been through and the additional risks with twins. It's not unusual to lose one twin in the first or even second trimester and the thought of Amelia hearing that news on her own makes my heart squeeze painfully.  
  
When the doctor smiles and turns on the second screen for us to see, I release a breath I feel like I've been holding for nineteen weeks.     
"Say hi to your babies. Twin A is just a smidgen smaller than twin B but not enough to worry about. We'll monitor it with each sonogram to be sure. Both cords are good and have good blood flow, their little hearts are healthy and strong, and they're very active."    
I find it so strange seeing two babies on the screen, it's like my brain just takes longer to process it every time.     
"Everything is developing as it should, their size is consistent with your gestation. Twin B is right in position if you want to know the sex."    
"Yes!" Amelia's voice is high with excitement and I squeeze her hand.     
The doctor laughs as she moves the wand. "Look at this guy, showing off all the goods with his legs spread. They're boys." She puts a little arrow on the screen and then types in 'twin boys!'    
While I'm exhuberating about baby boys and how exciting it will be Amelia is silent, and when I look down there are tears on her cheeks. "Babe?"    
"We're gonna have twin boys," she whispers. "Wow."    
"Are you okay?"    
"Yeah, it just got very, very real."  
  
Closing a Broadway show is a mixed bag of emotions -- relief that we got through without any major mishaps, sadness that it's over, elation at the success and positive reviews -- but above all my loudest thought is going home. There's a party just a few doors down where I'm careful to stick with water and soft drinks, although I could eat my weight in ice cream from the sundae bar, because even though Amelia wanted me to have a carefree night out... I just want to go home. I have to stay until midnight at least, but once the rest are moving on to another club I call it a night and make my farewells.   
  
The drive feels so much longer at night, even though it takes less time. There are less cars, less to look at, less to keep my focus on the road so my mind doesn't wander too far.   
  
When I open the front door I can hear the dogs rustling around in their crates and tails thudding against wire. I reset the alarm and head quietly to the bedroom, stripping off my clothes and sliding in behind Amelia.    
"Hey," she says softly, covering the arm I've draped over her with her hand, "you're supposed to be out getting drunk."    
"I'd rather be here with my girls."    
"I had your bail money all set aside and everything."    
Just for that I tickle the back of her neck one last time, until she pleads for mercy. My sassy little smartass.


End file.
